


Eclipse

by odeon



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Celestial Objects, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hope, Lesbian Sex, Loss, Love, New York, OTP Feels, Observatory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 86,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odeon/pseuds/odeon
Summary: After an excruciatingly long day of emotional turmoil, Carol Aird revisits her old alma mater, the Vassar College in Poughkeepsie. The impulsive decision to do so leads to an unexpected meeting with a young female student, Therese Belivet, who shares an apartment with a group of friends off campus.An emotional night sparks an unlikely relationship neither one of them saw coming.





	1. Poughkeepsie

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, it's balance time, so this is my effort to bring about something completely different alongside the wicked ladies of Smaragdus. I will be writing both simultaneously. This one, I'm sure, will not be written in any breakneck speed. <3

**PART I: CAROL**

\---

The marble had cracked. “It’s nothing uncommon,” Harge had said. “It occurs around areas of stress, and this one is right next to the sink.” An almost straight line, the thin, nearly imperceptible fracture was still there. He never fixed it. Carol couldn’t feel it under her thumb, but she saw it even if no one else did. She stood by the window, and longed to be outside. The purple crocuses were shooting out of the ground, but the wind had a mean, cold streak to it.       

“You can go home now, Florence.” The brown-haired woman, who had stepped into the kitchen, had an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ll take it from here.” The elderly lady finished putting the glasses and the plates in the dishwasher and nodded quietly. Her eyes red-rimmed and heavy, she looked older than her sixty years.

“Thank you, Florence,” Carol said, knowing it was expected of her. For the past half an hour, she had waited for her husband’s old nanny to leave. She needed peace and quiet after all those people whose hands she had shaken, after all the well-meaning platitudes she had had to endure. Carol didn’t care for Florence, she never had. She had never stopped fussing over her husband, the son she had thought of as one of her own. Tight-lipped, Florence retreated to the foyer. She put on her overcoat and left her keys on top of the small drawer under a silver framed mirror.  

“Goodbye, Mrs. Aird,” she said without looking at Carol. “Goodbye, Ms. Gerhard.” The door made hardly any sound as it closed behind her.

The day had been an excruciatingly long one, and as it turned into a late evening, Carol felt drained and disillusioned. Her friend was busy tidying up the living room, the only space other than kitchen that had been in use today. There were flowers everywhere – lilies, orchids, and roses, all white and depressing, she thought. Everything about the room seemed washed out of colors, bleak and somber in a way she couldn’t possibly understand or appreciate.

“You should go, too, Abby,” Carol said. She was certain her friend was expected at home by now. “Gen will go crazy with the twins if you don’t show up soon.” She sat on the white sofa and kicked her shoes off. The stockinged toes curled against the thick ivory rug.

“Are you sure?” Abby asked cautiously. “I can stay a bit longer, it’s not a problem.” She picked up a coffee cup forgotten on one of the side tables. “Gen wanted to be here today.” Abby looked heartbroken.

“I know, but I’ll be fine, really.” Carol attempted to smile at Abby, and by the look on her friend’s face, she nearly managed to convince her of its authenticity. “Go take care of your boys, darling. They need you.” Abby and Gen had two five-year-old sons, both of whom had fallen ill with the chicken pox. If life hadn’t been hectic enough with two lively boys disrupting their decade old routine, fretting over their health had thrown it completely for a loop.

“Well, okay,” Abby agreed at last. “But I’ll call and check on you later.”

Carol found Abby’s uneasiness endearing. Not that it was any surprise, she knew her to be endlessly caring and affectionate. “Don’t you dare,” she said in mock reproach. “I’m going to turn in real early tonight, and the last thing I want is for you to interrupt my sleep.” Sitting next to Carol for a while longer, Abby hugged her tightly. The warm, long embrace was welcome, but it took all of Carol’s willpower not to give in to the sobs embedded deep within. 

When Carol was finally alone, she listened to the unbroken silence that seemed to encompass all objects, the paraphernalia of a life lived, around her. She tried to think where she had bought them from, if any of them had been a gift from Harge, but none of what she saw spoke to her. Everything was still and muted. 

The cloying scent of the flowers wafted in the air, and it made her sick. It got to the point where she had to hurry to the bathroom to throw up. Whatever little she had managed to digest that day surged out violently, rendering her weak and susceptible to all the mixed emotions wallowing inside her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if they were real or just a side effect of her wretched state.

She returned to the living room, took the vases to the kitchen and emptied them into the trash bin. Its lid closed with a sharp clang. Carol turned out the lights, and lingered a minute more in the dark living room. She was tired, maybe more than she had ever been in her life, and she longed to close her eyes and rest. She got ready for bed, slid between the clean sheets Abby had thoughtfully put there for her. The bedroom’s window ajar, she lay down waiting for sleep, for a dreamless night, should she get so lucky.

But it was still early, and Carol knew it, yet she had hoped against hope, that somehow she could skip the remnants of the day and wake up to a new, pristine one. It wasn’t meant to be. She got up, but instead of wearing her robe, she put on her jeans, a warm sweater and a coat.  She wasn’t going to stay at home.

Harge’s car was still at the shop, Carol remembered. She had her handbag and wallet, though. After a couple of blocks, she managed to wave a cab with a light on.

“Where to, ma’am?” The driver had dark, unruly hair and surprisingly small fists that clutched the steering wheel. On the back of his hands Carol saw tattooed wings. The license attached to the partition had the name ‘Eros’ printed on it.

“Could you by any chance drive me to Poughkeepsie?” Carol could have sworn she hadn’t known what she was about to ask before she had said it. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Poughkeepsie?” the young man asked, surprised. “You know I can’t do that. And even if I could, it’s at least an hour and a half’s drive.” Scratching the back of his head, he stared at Carol through the rear view mirror.

Despondent, Carol sank back in her seat. The corners of her mouth started to twitch uncontrollably, and a sob escaped her mouth.

“Are you crying?” Eros asked, confused. “Aww… don’t cry, lady.” His eyes darted around helplessly, but the neighborhood looked deserted.

“I’m sorry,” Carol mumbled, ashamed of her erratic behavior.

“It’s okay,” Eros said. “Look, why don’t you stick along. I need to take my Nana to Hartsdale later tonight, and I guess I could drive you all the way up there after that…” Sighing, he clearly wasn’t at all sure what he was doing. “But it’s going to cost you big time.”

Carol wasn’t at all discouraged by his obvious attempt to get her to give up her plan. “I have money,” she stated quietly.

“Alright then,” the man said. “We’ll have to swing by my place to switch cars.” He turned the cab around and headed uptown. They drove along the FDR Drive, crossing the Willis Avenue Bridge and passing Yankee Stadium. When the Harlem River curved to the left, they kept on going straight ahead, through the Van Cortlandt Park, stopping only at Yonkers to pick up the grandma who was waiting for him in front of an apartment building on Webster Avenue.

They left the cab by the curb and got into the car Eros had mentioned earlier, an unimpressive but well-kept Honda. Smiling self-consciously, Carol sat next to the woman who looked both ancient and ageless to her. Wrapped in a shawl, she reminded Carol of a matryoshka doll, one of those wooden figures which separate, top from bottom, to always reveal another, smaller one inside.

The old woman smiled and said something Carol didn’t understand. She said it again and laughed, and her happy laughter filled the small space entirely. “Don’t mind Nana,” Eros quipped, glancing at Carol through the mirror. “I’m afraid she doesn’t live in this world anymore.” He beamed at her grandma affectionately.

“What did she say?” Carol asked, curious to know what it was that had prompted the woman to speak in the first place.

“It doesn’t make any sense, really,” Eros chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road. “She said _‘she will be beautiful’_.” His winged hands flexed over the steering wheel. “Nana hardly ever makes sense these days.” He spoke in a language Carol didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, it was funny enough to coax another laugh out of the old woman.

Once they had made it to Hartsdale, Eros got out and opened the rear door for his grandma. Before she left, she surprised Carol by grabbing her hands and squeezing them warmly. Grinning knowingly, she repeated her strange words. “You said it again, didn’t you?” Carol asked her. The woman’s round face and quaint almond eyes appealed to her, and Carol wondered if she somehow saw right through her.

* * *

Carol must have dozed off, since the rest of the journey seemed to fly by. “Here we are,” Eros confirmed. “Any particular place you’d like to go to?” He was impatient to head back home.

“Could you drive me to the observatory?” Carol asked. She wanted to see the place where she had spent so many nights while studying.          

Only when the taillights of Eros’ Honda disappeared from view, it occurred to Carol to check the time. _10.15 PM_. The Class of 1951 Observatory on the Vassar College campus looked just like she remembered it: a central building with a half round roof connected two different-sized domes, the ones with the main telescopes. Both domes had a slit in the roof that opened during observing. Now they were closed.

Carol walked to the back entrance and banged on the door. It had gotten dark, and she was cold, and the fact that there were no cars parked nearby disturbed her. _Why did I come here?_ she asked herself. _What on earth possessed me to go through all this trouble to get here today?_ She couldn’t answer it. She had never been an impulsive person.    

Just as she was about to leave and head toward the student apartments on foot, the door opened. “Are you looking for someone?” asked a soft voice behind her. Carol turned around and saw a young woman standing in the doorway. She had very dark, almost black, cropped hair, and kind, curious eyes.

“I thought I could attend a show,” Carol said simply even though her eyelids were heavy and drooping.      

“I’m afraid we’re open to the public only on Wednesdays, weather permitting” the woman said apologetically. “Maybe you can come back then?” She was on her way out, Carol noticed.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Carol said. “Thank you.” She turned away to leave. She hadn’t gotten very far when she heard hasty footsteps approaching.

“Hey…” the young woman said, smiling. “I have my car over on the main campus, and I can give you a lift, if you like?” She was slightly out of breath, having run after Carol.

“You’re very kind. Maybe you could drop me off at the train station?” Carol asked.

“Depends on where you’re going,” the woman said. “There aren’t many trains that leave this late. Maybe none.” 

“I need to get back to Manhattan,” Carol stated, distressed by what she had just learned. “It was foolish of me to come here out of some silly whim. I wasn’t thinking.” Squinting her eyes shut, Carol cursed her own stupidity. She folded her arms tightly against her chest to keep the warmth from escaping.

“Manhattan?” her companion repeated, catching her step. “And you came here just for the show? Now _I_ feel bad.” The woman shoved her hands in her pants’ pockets and grew silent for a second. “Listen, unless it’s absolutely necessary for you to get back home, I suggest you stay here till tomorrow,” she started out. “I live in a commune, and we have plenty of space. Why don’t you crash with us for the night?”

Carol could see she was being sincere. “Well, I don’t know…” In any other circumstances she could have called Abby who would have come and picked her up, if somewhat begrudgingly. Now she didn’t know what would be the correct thing to do.

“There’s nothing to know,” the woman decided. “I’m Therese, and I absolutely insist you stay with us.” Her smile lit up her entire face, sweeping across the rosy cheeks and climbing all the way up to her mischievous eyes. Most of all, it made Carol want to say yes against her better judgment. She didn’t have to, though, for Therese read what was in her mind. “Why don’t you call home and tell whomever it is you need to notify, that you’re safe and sound and spending the night with new friends?” Therese’s car stood waiting in front of the Athletics Center.

“I don’t need to call anyone,” Carol said. For the first time in a year, she didn’t have to think about explaining her comings and goings to another soul.

“What was your name again?” Therese asked once they had left the campus area behind them. Carol had forgotten to introduce herself.

“Carol,” she said, looking at Therese intently.

“Carol,” Therese repeated, glancing back at her.

* * *

The apartment Therese shared with her friends was spacious, but at first sight it still didn’t appear to have enough room for the people who inhabited it. At least that’s what Carol thought seeing the motley crew of Vassar students lounging on the floor or on the mismatched furniture sprinkled around the main living area.  

“Everybody, this is Carol,” Therese informed her cohabitants. “She’s going to stay here tonight.” Preoccupied with their own interests, only two of her friends raised their hands to a lackluster greeting. For Carol, it was a relief. She hadn’t looked forward to a group meeting of any kind, not after today. When Therese suggested they go to her room, she gratefully accepted the offer.

“Sam’s away for a couple of days, so you can sleep in her room,” Therese explained. “We share a bathroom, so if you need to use it at night, you’ll have to pass through mine. I hope it’s okay with you?” Carol didn’t mind the arrangement. She was starting to feel the strain again, the sleepless nights weighing heavily on her shoulders. When Therese asked if she would like to have a cup of tea with her, she didn’t, however, want to be impolite and retire too soon.

Carol sipped her tea bravely, but the physical and mental exhaustion was getting the better of her. She gazed at Therese but understood very little, the words and the sentences undulating hopelessly out of her reach. “Carol, you’re drifting,” Therese said. “You need to go to bed.” She helped Carol up on her wobbly feet, and guided her gently to Sam’s room. “Good night, sleepyhead.”                              

Three hours later Carol woke up, nauseous once more. Panicking, she stumbled toward the adjoining door and the bathroom she knew to be only a few quick paces away. She made it in just in time, and she didn’t leave until she was absolutely certain she couldn’t possibly vomit more than she already had. Gasping, Carol got up from the tile floor and glanced in the mirror. Sweaty strands of hair had stuck on her forehead, and she looked like a mess.

When Carol was half way back to Sam’s room, a light was turned on. “Don’t… please,” she mumbled. Therese turned it off, but the glow of the streetlamps was still enough to reveal the sorry state she was in. Standing there in the middle of the floor, wearing just a T-shirt and panties, Carol felt exposed and all too vulnerable to hide behind any façade. Her shoulders jerking, she couldn’t stop the tears or the sobs anymore.  

“Come here,” Therese said, tenderly. She moved next to the wall, clearing the space in front of her. Her head bowed, Carol did as she was told and lay down next to her on the narrow mattress.

“I buried my husband today.” Carol’s truth broke the silence, and it ended the tears, for now. With her back turned against a stranger, she could tell it like it was. Therese remained quiet, but her hand caressed Carol’s back and side, injecting calm to temper the pain.  


	2. Celestial Objects

The room was flooded with light when Carol woke up. The beige blinds were still partly down but they couldn’t hold any of it back, the sun aiming all its might against their shimmering surface. Her sleep had been thick, impenetrable, and at first she couldn’t recall the events of the previous night. Carol was disoriented, surprised to find herself in a bed other than her own. The duvet had partly fallen off of her, its hem touching the honey-colored floor. _The bliss of not remembering_ , she thought, _it never lasts long enough_. Too soon her mind pieced the fragments of yesterday together. The stainless steel casket, the grave people around it, their black suits and dresses far removed from life.

“I’d rather you have a wake instead of a boring funeral,” Harge had joked three weeks ago. It was then when Carol had realized he had given up the last shred of hope. After that he had withdrawn to himself as if to prepare for the inevitable he was now ready to face. He had had no more questions, the need to know and to believe having given way to weary indifference. The TV in his room at the hospice had remained turned off permanently, and never once did Carol see him read a magazine or browse a book again. The moments of clarity having become scarce, he had swiftly disappeared into another realm Carol had had no access to.     

 _Therese_. Carol had awakened just once after getting in her bed, and even that must have happened only an hour or so ago. The woman she had accidentally met had clung to her body, her arm wrapped lightly around her. Her steady breathing had warmed Carol’s neck, giving her a soft, easy tempo to give up the conscious thought for a moment longer. Now she was alone in bed. The place next to her was still warm, but she couldn’t say if it was because of Therese or the elfish sun suffusing the white sheets.

She saw the room properly for the first time. There wasn’t much to look at, but the few things present were selected with care: a vintage secretary desk with a swivel chair in front of it, a walnut bookcase stuffed with hardcovers and paperbacks of disproportionate size, and a lush wing chair with a paisley floral design on a rich brown background. Two unpretentious metal lamps stood by to light up the room, one right next to the armchair, another smaller one on the desk top. The walls were painted soft, mossy green with a touch of gray, which appealed to Carol very much.

Therese’s room was in such direct contrast to the mélange of the second-hand items strewn across the living room, it would have seemed almost _too_ thought-out, had it not been for the prints on the wall. Suddenly curious, Carol got up to see them up close. A large one dominated the space above the wing chair, a picture that looked like a photograph of the Milky Way over an arched rock formation. The two smaller ones next to it completed the composition: a print of what Carol thought was the moon in different phases of its eclipse, and a grainy black and white portrait of two women in heavy frocks with a telescope between them.     

“You’re up.” Captivated by what she was inspecting, Carol hadn’t noticed Therese enter the room. She was carrying a breakfast tray.

“Yeah…” Carol said, the corners of her mouth turning to a bashful grin. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so soundly.” Only now she became aware of what she was wearing, or, rather, what was missing from her apparel. Her jeans and her sweater were neatly folded on the floor next to the bed.

“You put in quite a few hours,” Therese smiled, setting the tray on the desk. “Fourteen, if I’m not mistaken.” It was two o’clock in the afternoon.

Pulling up her jeans, Carol glanced at her in surprise. “That has never happened before,” she said, looking for her bra. The T-shirt she had on wasn’t providing the support she now badly needed.

“It obviously hit the spot,” Therese stated. ““Sleep deprivation is a bitch.” She picked up the French press to pour them coffee. “Your bra and other stuff are in the bathroom.” Blushing faintly, Carol retreated to the small room she had gotten to know too well.

“Do you take milk with your coffee? You do drink coffee, don’t you?” Therese hollered behind the closed door.

“Yes,” Carol confirmed. “I mean yes, I drink coffee, and I’d like just a dash of milk, thank you.” She cringed at her clumsy reply.

“Even if it’s espresso roast?” Therese specified. “The milk’s hot, you know.”

“Oh, okay, maybe one third of milk and two thirds of coffee then,” Carol decided. She imagined Therese smiling in the other room. _I look like shit_ , she thought, depressed by what stared back from the mirror. She searched her handbag for something to repair the damage. _I really did take off without any plan_. In a desperate attempt to make herself more presentable, Carol opened the mirror cabinet to look for anything to freshen up. What she found was the basic stuff – toothpicks, dental floss, hand lotion and moisturizer, a bottle of ibuprofen and some other pills she didn’t recognize, a hair brush and a couple of stray hairpins. The shelves were slightly stained with dried up specks of toothpaste and oily fingerprints. Something was stuck between the upper glass shelf and the outer wall of the cabinet, she noticed. Why she needed to see it, Carol couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because of the tweezers so readily available, that she decided to pry it out.       

It was a strip of black and white photos one used to be able to purchase from the now mostly defunct curtained booths in bus and railway stations. The strip Carol was holding had two young women in it, the other one recognizably Therese. She looked almost the same age as now, only with longer hair. The other girl in the picture had sandy-colored curls bobbed very short and intense, lively eyes. Making faces to the camera, their heads looked glued together. Seeing them made Carol swallow involuntarily, for she sensed that she was looking at something clearly not meant for her eyes. The intimacy the series of mini portraits exuded was palpable, and she regretted her nosiness. She pushed the strip back to its awkward place.

“How are you feeling?” Therese asked, when Carol returned from her detour to the bathroom. “Not sick anymore, I hope?” Carol's prolonged rendezvous with the toilet bowl hadn't gone unnoticed.

“I’m pretty good, actually,” Carol replied, realizing she hadn’t been feeling ill all morning. The rich, dark aroma of the freshly ground coffee enticed her, and she was grateful to taste her latte without any bodily reservations. The coffee was good, strong and hot, and when it trickled down her throat, it invigorated her befuddled mind like a burst of color on a blank canvas. She stretched her back and felt like a whole new person. A hungry new person.

Therese had spread a quilt on the floor for an impromptu indoor picnic. The basket filled with toast, English muffins and croissants nested on a stitched field of poppies along with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and two small bowls of yoghurt with sliced fruit on top. Carol sat next to the bread basket and started smearing butter and marmalade on a slice of toast. Tucking her legs under her, Therese made herself comfortable right beside Carol. She seemed content with her coffee mug for now.            

“Where did you get those?” Carol asked between bites, nodding at the prints on the wall. “The one on the left is my absolute favorite.”  

“I took them,” Therese said, hiding her pleasure in a sip of coffee.

“ _You_ took them?” Carol raised her eyebrows. “How? Where?”

“In the Joshua Tree National Park. I made a balanced exposure of the Milky Way, starry sky and Venus, with those awesome cliffs lit in the foreground.” Therese made it sound like it was nothing unusual. “See how the rock arches…” she continued, “Venus is right under it, and the Milky Way just above it. Cool, huh?”

Carol had to get up to look at it once more in detail. “It’s gorgeous,” she praised. “But how do you take pictures like that?” she wanted to know.     

“It’s called astrophotography,” Therese said. “You take your camera, telescope and tripod, and spend an awful lot of time outdoors, at night, in the cold,” she chuckled, “using, among other things, long exposure to record what you see in the dark sky.” She joined Carol who was scanning the picture at very close range. “Sometimes you have to combine multiple images to produce the final one, like I’ve done with the blood moon here,” Therese pointed at the smaller photo. “This composite shows the moon’s different phases starting at 4.32 AM up to totality at 6.25 AM. For this, I used a Canon 6D with an 80 mm scope. ISO settings were between 800 to 6400, and exposures ranged from 1/400 seconds to 2 seconds.”

Overwhelmed, Carol gulped. “I have no idea what you just said,” she admitted after a deliberate pause. She gazed at Therese who seemed rightfully pleased with the fruits of her labor. Carol touched her arm gently, and smiling secretively, pointed at the last photo on the wall. “But you didn’t take this one, that much I know,” she stated, winking at Therese.

“If I had, I’d be like 160 years old,” Therese laughed. “That’s Maria Mitchell on the left, the first female astronomer in America. She was also the first professor of astronomy and the director of the observatory here in Vassar.”  

“I know Maria,” Carol said with a smirk. “I’m an alumnus of Vassar.” She remembered how she and her friends had used to playfully wonder why the old lady had insisted in wearing a black lace 'doily' on her head.

“Really?” Therese looked utterly surprised. “Was the new observatory up and running when you were here?”

Carol frowned at her question. “How _old_ do you think I am?” she asked, rolling her eyes at Therese. “I graduated six years ago.” 

Therese couldn’t help but smile at the sudden display of Carol’s temper. “Old enough.” She returned promptly to her place on the quilt.

Carol remained standing, but not because she wanted to. For some reason she thought it better to lounge around the room and check the spines on the volumes in the bookcase.

“By the way, someone’s been trying to reach you,” Therese mentioned casually. “Your phone’s on mute but I could hear it vibrating in your handbag.” She halved a croissant to fill it with jam.

Carol hadn’t thought about her cell at all, and when she picked it up, she was distressed to find twelve missed calls – all from Abby. There were four messages in her voice mail.

 

>   _Message number one: Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Call me._
> 
> _Message number two: Carol, call me. It’s 11.15 and I’m worried sick._
> 
> _Message number three: Okay, now you’re freaking me out! I’m at your place and you’re God-knows-where. CALL ME!_
> 
> _Message number four: It’s 1.55, and I will call the police if you don’t call me at once! _
> 
>  

Perturbed, Carol picked up her coat. “I’m going to step outside for a moment and make a call, okay?” Therese nodded and resumed eating.

The call was picked up at once. “Finally! Where the fuck have you been?” Abby’s voice vacillated between anger and worry.

“I’m in Poughkeepsie,” Carol said. “Everything’s okay.”

“You’re in Po… cut the crap, Carol! You don’t even have your car. What on earth’s going on?” Abby’s voice had a tired, impatient edge to it.

“I got a ride here late last night, and stayed over at a friend’s place,” Carol explained. “I’m fine, I really am.”

“You went to Poughkeepsie after the funeral? Poughkeepsie – the place where we went to college?” Abby was starting to question her sanity.

“Is there another Poughkeepsie I don’t know about?” Carol asked, not sure if it was a good idea to crack a joke about it.

The line went silent for a while. “Are you there? Abby?” Carol was nervous to hear her friend so agitated.

“I was sick with worry, Carol,” Abby said seriously. “You left your door open. Do you have _any idea_ what has run through my mind all this morning and afternoon?”

Carol had an idea, and she was sorry. “I couldn’t sleep and I wanted some fresh air. Then I found myself in Poughkeepsie.” She thought about the man and his grandma, Therese and the way she had caressed her to sleep.

“Jesus, Carol…” was all Abby managed to say. There was hardly anything that ever left her speechless, but Carol had seen it happen more often than once over the past twelve months. Abby had sat by her in the hospital, waiting for news of Harge’s operation. She had been almost too chatty up to the minute the doctor had delivered Carol the final verdict. After that Abby had shut her mouth and just tightly held her hand for hours on end. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Carol said. “I just needed to do this, even though it was rash and silly.” She drew a long breath. “Yesterday was just too much…” She could almost hear Abby thinking, those smart wheels of hers turning.

“Who did you say you stayed with?” she demanded to know.

“I didn’t,” Carol replied. “A friend… you don’t know her.” She didn’t want to talk about Therese.

“You don’t have any friends in Poughkeepsie anymore,” Abby pointed out. “Even _I_ don’t have one left there, they’ve all moved out.” The tone of her voice told Carol that she was treading on very thin ice.

“I have life… people… you don’t know about,” Carol started, knowing very well that her defiant declaration would fall flat on its face the very next second.

“No, you don’t,” Abby interrupted, annoyed, but before she could press it any further, Carol intervened.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later.” Ignoring Abby’s objections, she shut her phone and slid it in her pocket.

Carol returned to Therese’s room. The young woman was still sitting on the floor, her head resting on the side of the bed. She looked relaxed, so at ease with herself – seemingly calm and ready for whatever life might have in store for her. Yet Carol knew she couldn’t possibly decipher anything from Therese’s outward appearance.  

Carol had liked Therese instantly. She had found her generous and tender, although the latter had been a huge surprise to her. Carol glanced at the still unmade bed, and the rippled sheets reminded her of the sandy floor of the sea. The fears of the night had engulfed her; they had sunk her deep, knowing no bottom. _The kindness of strangers_ , Carol thought. And the gentle touch of one stranger in particular that had saved her from drowning.      

The way Therese had observed her made Carol realize she hadn’t asked a single thing about the sad fact revealed in the dead of night. She wasn’t sure if she should say something, volunteer information somehow. She wasn’t sure of anything.

“Sit.” Therese had closed her eyes from the reckless sun, but her voice was steady and alert. Carol sat down next to her. The sprightly puddles of light had craftily heated up the checkerboard floor all morning. It was exceptionally warm for this time of the year. _What a difference a day makes_ , Carol sighed as she leaned against the bed and shut her eyes just like Therese had done.

When Therese's hand palmed hers on the floor, Carol didn’t flinch or move away.             


	3. Serendipity

Therese drove Carol to the station an hour later. As the train nudged forward, Carol kept looking out of the window to catch the last glimpse of the woman who had unknowingly consoled her far better than all the friends and relatives combined. Therese was still on the track-side platform, heading towards the stairs to get to the parking lot where she had left her black Jeep. She crossed the grey, weather-beaten pavement in only a few absentminded strides, her thumbs tucked inside the pockets of her cargo pants. Leaning forward in her seat, Carol followed Therese’s every move until her head nearly hit the window glass. The last thing she saw were Therese’s hiking boots that disappeared inside a dark green, covered pathway leading up to the overpass.

The diesel engine pulled its silver tail along the Hudson River, the train speeding on tracks that at times seemed to fall on water as it curved around the bend. On the other shore, the mountains sloped gently upward, their contours blurred with verdant brush. Carol looked at the river and saw how the hardening wind whipped its surface into sharp, rippled arrows. Unleashed, they spiraled around as if chasing an invisible foe cowering at depths.

It wasn’t until Croton-Harmon that Carol realized she had forgotten to ask Therese’s last name. In fact, she hadn’t told hers either. The less-than-twenty hours she had spent with Therese had been so _irregular_ , it hadn’t even occurred to Carol to make a formal introduction. The neglect frustrated her immensely, though she had at one point wondered if their chance meeting was just a curious fluke that wasn’t even meant to happen again. Maybe it had been decided for her, Carol thought, saddened by the wasted opportunity to get to know Therese better. To _thank her_ for her help. _Oh well_.

When the train pulled up at Grand Central an hour later, Carol was still thinking about Therese. _How hard could it be to find her?_ she asked herself. _I’ll call Vassar or google astrophotography_. _Not hard at all_. Comforted by her renewed optimism, Carol headed toward the subway.

* * *

Abby came by soon after Carol had returned home. “Here,” she said, handing Carol a set of keys. “I fetched the car. They were done with it, so I thought I’d better get it for you,” Abby smiled faintly. “I don’t like the idea of you hitchhiking in the middle of the night.” She got rid of her jacket and scarf, and threw them over the sofa cushions.

“Thanks,” Carol said. “You really didn’t have to go through all that trouble. I could’ve gotten it myself tomorrow.” She was pleased, nonetheless. Abby was always ready to go beyond the call of duty to help her out. Sometimes Carol wondered if she was as good a friend for her as Abby was for her. Lately the scales had been tipped to her favor.

“It was no trouble at all. I was happy to get out of the house,” Abby sighed. “First you worry about your kids being feverish and slack. Then you medicate them and end up losing your nerve with two goofballs, now miraculously juiced-up and running circles around you.” She frowned at Carol who found her complaint both amusing and adorable. “It’s a vicious cycle, I tell you!” Stretching herself on the sofa, Abby closed her eyes for a second.

Abby and Gen had been together for ten years. They had first gotten to know each other at Vassar, both just starting their studies at the time. Abby had majored in Political Science, Gen in Psychology, both minoring in Women’s Studies. Carol had more or less played Cupid in their ending up together, recognizing immediately how well-suited they were. She had known Abby already before college, attending the same private school as her.

When Abby and Gen had decided to start a family six years ago, they hadn’t been at all prepared to what was waiting for them. Lulled by the notion that Gen wouldn’t most likely get pregnant right away, they had been stunned to hear it having happened on their first fertility clinic appointment. Not only were they expecting their firstborn – and the ‘only born’ as Abby had been quick to remind everyone at the time – but twins. Nine months later Lou and Mickey arrived, and as much as their parents adored them, the two red-haired rascals had been driving their mothers up the walls ever since.

‘Aunt Carol’ was their favorite, never afraid to get her hands dirty or to let the boys turn her place upside down. Even Harge had liked Lou and Mickey, although his interest in playing with them had waned after his failed attempts to get Carol pregnant. Carol had seen it in him, the defeat and the anguish of a man who wished nothing more than a child to call his own. “Nothing wrong with Harge’s ‘swimmers’”, their doctor had assured them, all they had to do was to keep on trying.

_Nothing like having sex with one purpose only to take the fun out of it_ , Carol had mused many times, but for Harge’s sake she had kept her end of the bargain. The one thing that was supposed to be so natural and effortless became its polar opposite, a strained, perfunctory ritual dictated by what time of the month it was.

The basic method having run its course, they had sought the assistance of a fertility clinic. The IVF process hadn’t been a walk in the park, not to Carol. The hormonal treatment had wreaked havoc in her mind and body, bringing about mood swings and recurring headaches.

No one had placed blame, no one else except Carol. If their failure wasn’t Harge’s fault, it had to be hers, she had reasoned. The disappointment had consumed her like a black, hideous clot growing bigger and bigger inside her, until it smothered all competing thoughts and sentiments. She had witnessed it in Harge as well, the suffering in silence that had gradually permeated his entire existence. Never had it been as prominently present as after the endless Sunday lunches with Harge’s parents, after the torture of having had dodged their nosy questions about the much-hoped-for grandchildren.        

When Harge had gotten his diagnosis, Carol had wondered if the darkness she had known had in fact become something more real for him. Maybe Harge’s clot had assumed a tangible form that had started preying on his health. Carol had never believed in such things, not _per se_ , but seeing him ravaged first by despair, then by cancer, she had no longer known what to think.

“I believe you have some explaining to do.” Abby broke the silence. “Spill.” Knowing very well how persistent Abby could be, Carol gave up. She let out a deep sigh.

“I wanted to see the observatory,” Carol started, “but of course it was closed by the time I got there.” She hesitated for a while. “A really nice young woman understood the trouble I was in, and offered me a place to stay.” Abby didn’t say a word, but the look on her face left Carol no choice but to continue. “Then I slept with her.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Abby leapt into a sitting position. She was uncertain if what she thought she had heard was correct.

“Not in _that_ way!” Carol hastened to say. “We just slept in the same bed, that’s all.” Yet she knew that it wasn’t all there was to it.

“There were no other beds in her apartment, no extra mattresses, no sofa?” Abby wasn’t buying it. “Or did you just happen to slip and fall into hers?” Her astonishment over Carol’s surprise confession was getting out of hand.

“There was nothing sexual in it,” Carol said quietly. “I needed someone, and she was there for me. She didn’t ask for anything…” Carol fell silent, overwhelmed by the sadness of her past tense.

Abby caught the shift in Carol’s tone, and changed her approach. “Are you going to see her again?” she asked. Warm and frank, her question no longer implied anything.

“How could I? I don’t even know her full name.” Carol’s disheartened voice gave away just enough for Abby to grasp the full meaning of her encounter.

“Serendipity,” Abby said. “To find something good that you weren’t even looking for.” She got up to go to the kitchen. “Now we’ll eat,” she declared in her customary manner that fended off all objections. “I brought lasagna and a bottle of very nice Chianti.” The baked pasta dish needed only heating up.

“You pamper me, Abigail,” Carol smiled. “But I do feel bad taking up so much of your time these days.” She liked having her around, but she also knew that Abby’s main responsibilities lay happily elsewhere. 

“Anything to buy me an extra hour away from the madness and mayhem,” Abby quipped, winking at Carol. She poured some wine in their glasses and sighed contentedly.

“You’re full of shit, darling, but I love you for it,” Carol laughed and joined her at the table.

* * *

When Abby had left to put the boys in bed, Carol was once again forced to face the reality of her home. _Their_ home, hers and Harge’s. Now that she had it all to herself, she was slowly coming to the conclusion that she didn’t like it.

First she would have to paint the walls, Carol decided, if she were to survive within their confines at all. Then she would get rid of all the bric-a-brac, no matter how much sentimental value some of it held, for it was those very items that sucked the oxygen out of the rooms she had to live in. She would pack them in neat little boxes until she found out what to do with her memories. Right now all they did was spell the past Carol was funereally shackled to.  

Carol thought of Therese’s room, how vibrant and inviting it had looked compared to the dreary dullness of her domicile. She thought of Therese, and the image of the young woman at ease on the floor made her both happy and sad. They had slept the entire night in the exact same position, Therese behind her, spooning her. Carol wondered what it would have been like, had she turned around just once and faced her. To bury her head in Therese’s shoulder, to wrap her arms around the young woman’s waist. Carol’s heart skipped a beat but only to gain momentum for a heavier blow. Would Therese have allowed her to do that? Would she have merely embarrassed herself with her neediness? She was full of questions that taunted her, zeroed in on an easy victim.

The food Abby had brought over hadn’t agreed with her, and Carol had known it after her first bite. She had hardly touched the wine either. The flavor of red berries and bitter herbs she had always relished had eluded her, only the coarseness and the tartness stinging her palate. Abby had noticed her reluctance to eat, but she hadn’t said anything. “You’re only beginning to weather the storm, no wonder if you feel sick,” she had offered as an explanation to Carol’s nausea that had started two weeks before Harge’s death. Abby was right, of course, Carol mused, for Harge _– the Harge she had known and loved_ – hadn’t died on the day stated on his death certificate. When his heart stopped beating, he had already been gone for quite some time.

The nausea came back in waves, the next one being always more intense than the one before. Sometimes it skipped the warning signs altogether, and broke her resistance as easily as if it were snapping a brittle twig in half. Tonight the queasiness returned – with a vengeance.

The rare moments Carol was able to relax and hope to sleep, she kept tossing and turning in her bed. The night was long and ruthless, and it made her cling to the beauty she had known the day before. To kill the torturous time, she searched the Internet frantically. She caught the ‘thereses of the world’ but yearned to find the real one, feeding the search engine with words and tags she hoped would put her on the right track. Nothing came out, nothing was revealed, the ‘information superhighway’ leading her nowhere near her Venus under an arched rock.

Exhausted, Carol gave up, and when the first light of morning clashed with the polish of her bedroom window, she turned her back at it and wept.

* * *

Carol was tired, hardly able to function, but she needed to get out of the house. She would be angry and depressed the entire day, she grumbled in silence. Angry at her own stupidity and depressed by her inability to do anything about it, Carol put on her coat, the same one she had had on the night she had met Therese. She wasn’t sure where she was going, or if she was going anywhere at all. The night and the tears still heavy on her eyelids, she had to squint to see ahead.

The weather had taken a turn to worse like a fickle lover dosing disfavor for mere morbid amusement. A foul wind penetrated the layers Carol had on and played with her hair, indifferent to her patience having already worn thin. Pressing her chin against her chest, she shoved her bare hands stubbornly inside her coat pockets to keep them warm. Something sharp-edged and rectangular nearly cut her finger, and she withdrew her hand in haste. A moment later she reached inside the pocket again and drew out a business card:

 

> _Therese Belivet_
> 
> _E C L I P S E_
> 
> _Astrophotography_
> 
> _1-212-729-0268_
> 
>  

Stunned, Carol stared at the treasure she had found. The wind, sensing a change in her mood, hurried along in search for another victim.

_Serendipity_.


	4. Heavenly Bodies

_Hey, it’s Carol. How are you doing?_ The forced cheerfulness made Carol gag. _Who are you? Pollyanna_?

_This is Carol Aird_. She didn’t find it much better. _Too formal_.

_Hey, it’s Carol. I found your card_... She cringed. _Duh! You’re calling her, aren’t you?_

_It’s me, Carol_. She sighed. _I’ll just make it up as I go along_.

Carol sat down at the dining room table and dialed the numbers on the business card. Clearing her throat, she squirmed in her seat, waiting for the call to be picked up. The phone kept on ringing before it went to voicemail.

“Not here right now, but you know what to do.” Carol recognized Therese’s voice. A beep indicated it was her turn to leave a message.

_Fuck_. She wasn’t prepared to do this. _I’ll try again later_.

Invigorated by her new knowledge, Carol opened the laptop. She typed Therese’s entire name with ‘Eclipse’ in the search engine. The first hit indicated a webpage she had hoped to find all last night. She clicked on it, and the site started loading.

_Server not found_.

“For crying out loud!” Carol exclaimed, frustrated by the temporary setback. She slammed the laptop shut and pushed it farther away from her as if it had started to disgust her.

The hours inched forward, and the sky from the kitchen window showed signs of clearing up. Carol stood in front of it, chopping chives and some hot red pepper for her omelet. She cracked two eggs in a bowl and whisked them together. The butter had melted in the skillet, waiting for her to pour the seasoned eggs on it. Her mind wandering elsewhere, Carol formed yellow waves in the mixture with a spatula. She pushed and dragged the fluttering edges toward the center, preparing a soft, custard-like bed for her trimmings.

She pulled a stool under her, and sat by the kitchen island to enjoy her simple meal. The piquant, buttery taste pleased her as always, but the texture seemed all wrong. Remembering the half-eaten bag of potato chips in her pantry, she scattered a handful of them over the omelet. Having eaten a third of it, she abandoned the plate altogether and grabbed the chips instead. The bag rustled noticeably each time she reached down to catch one, her fingers soon sticky with salt and oil. She had tried calling Therese twice after her first attempt but to no avail. Either Therese didn’t have her cell with her or just didn’t feel like answering to an anonymous number.

Crushing the empty bag and throwing it away, Carol felt oddly dissatisfied. She wasn’t feeling queasy –in fact, she was still hungry. A quick stop at the neighborhood bodega would see to her needs, she mused.

* * *

A quarter of an hour later Carol had what she had gone looking for. The plastic bag she was carrying contained not only more chips but an array of other surprise items as well. If she couldn’t get a hold of Therese, she would stuff her face with chocolate. She would indulge in what any self-respecting, mature adult in her place would do – binge watch a TV show and OD on junk food. She found the thought funny and definitely worth a try.

As soon as Carol got to her street, she saw it. A black Jeep was parked on the curb next to her house. Approaching the car, she noticed a dark, slim figure sitting on the hood of it. The corners of her mouth curving into a smile, Carol got closer to the vehicle and its owner who was taking a keen interest in her phone. The cell in Carol’s pocket started to buzz. The smile on her face broadened further. The woman turned around swiftly.

“Hello,” Therese said, peeking over her round metal sunglasses. The green lenses were translucent in the bright sunlight. “Just returning your call here,” she continued, visibly amused.

“I can see that,” Carol said, grinning at her unexpected guest. “You do know that calls can be connected without being within an actual seeing distance?” She would have her fun, if only for a short while.

“I guess I could say I just happened to be in the neighborhood,” Therese answered. She jumped off the hood. “But I won’t.” She removed her shades and gazed at Carol who didn’t know how to reply to such honesty. “I’m not good with phones,” Therese explained. “I need to see the person I’m talking to.”

Carol felt warm but not uncomfortably so. Still, she couldn’t quite make up her mind how to respond to Therese’s candid remark, which she saw as an offhand compliment. As they stood by, clumsily gawking at one another, an elderly couple approached them fast with a bossy terrier leading the way. The little dog yanked his leash feistily, making his human slaves catch their breathless step. As they got closer, Therese grabbed Carol’s arm and pulled her gently out of their way. The uppity canine glared at them, incensed by their apparent lack of respect for what was rightfully his sidewalk alone.   

“I think we’d better go inside,” Carol laughed. “It’s getting dangerous out here.” She motioned for Therese to follow her. To escort her in safely seemed suddenly like the most important thing for her to do.

“How did you know where I live?” Carol asked out of the blue, closing the door behind her. Therese had already stepped into the living room.

“Oh, I took a look at your wallet while you were sleeping,” Therese confessed in a manner that sounded a bit sheepish to Carol. But when Therese turned around, she didn’t seem too distressed by her boldness. In fact, she was downright grinning. “Call me crazy,” she chuckled, “but I’m old-fashioned in the way that I kinda like to know who’s sleeping in my bed.” Without any further ado, she focused her full attention on the room she was in.

Therese was obviously very interested in the miscellanea of Carol’s home. She picked up one item after another and examined each one briefly, not bothering to ask for permission to do so. Therese paid particular attention to a heavy brass instrument on the mantelpiece. “Is this yours?” she asked Carol, raising her eyebrows quizzically.

“No, it belonged to my husband,” Carol replied. “But I do know what it is.” The antique, handmade sextant was beautiful to behold.

“Did he use it?” Therese inquired. She held the sextant up, and looked through its telescope.

“I don’t think so,” Carol said, hesitating. “His great grandfather, a sailor, did, though.” Grinning, Therese was pointing the sextant at her. “Something tells me _you_ don’t know the proper use for it,” Carol chuckled self-consciously. The young woman took a few steps closer, still keeping the instrument glued to her eye.

“Oh, I do know what it’s for,” Therese assured Carol. “It measures the angle a heavenly body makes with the visible horizon.” After a deliberate pause, she panned the sextant slowly to her left. “Heavenly bodies like stars, planets, sun and moon, you know.” Therese lowered it. “The angle, and the time of day when it was taken, helps you to navigate.” She returned to where she had found the sextant and put it carefully back at its place. “I’ll teach you one of these days.” She sat down on the couch, her arms soon resting along its back.

Slightly flustered, Carol had to change the subject. “Are you hungry?” Food was always a wholesome topic of conversation. “I could fix you something to eat, if you like.” She remembered the plastic bag, and the stuff still in it.

“I’m good for the moment,” Therese said, “although I’d be curious to see what you could come up with potato chips, vitamin water, dark chocolate and sour gummy rings.” Amused, she held out the groceries Carol had forgotten on the floor right next to the couch. Blushing, Carol retrieved her offering without a word.

Therese leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Actually, I came by to see if I could redeem myself…” she started with a shy smile.

“Redeem yourself?” Carol quirked her eyebrows, utterly surprised.

“I felt really bad when you showed up at the observatory, and I couldn’t give you that celestial tour you were hoping for,” Therese explained. “So I thought maybe I could make up for it tonight.” She gazed at Carol apprehensively. “If you have time, that is.”

Taken aback and terribly pleased, Carol smiled at the items she had just lifted onto the kitchen island. “I have time,” she acquiesced to say.

“Great.” Therese beamed at her. “I’ve been checking the weather forecast all day long, and the conditions should be excellent.” She got up, and fetched her phone from her jacket pocket.

“Excellent for what?” Carol asked, still uncertain what was in Therese’s mind.

“For stargazing,” Therese replied, unlocking her phone. “This sky chart keeps you up-to-date with all the relevant information you need to know before dragging your telescope to some remote spot.” Carol took a look at the small screen with rows of text and columns of different colored blocks right next to them. “See this dark blue one here,” Therese enthused. “It’s going to be clear alright.” She sounded so happy, the mysterious chart was enough to excite Carol, too.

“You need to dress really warmly,” Therese continued. “It can get surprisingly cold at night, and I wouldn’t want to see you shivering out there.” She looked around the apartment as if trying to figure out where Carol kept her clothes.

“Out where?” Carol asked. She was eager to hear where Therese planned to take her.

“In Inwood Hill Park,” Therese revealed. “One of the best places in the city to gaze at the sky. In most parts, the huge number and density of lights makes it virtually impossible to see anything,” she continued. “But Inwood is ideal. Large areas of the park have been kept wild with no street lamps in sight.”

Carol recalled the park faintly but was doubtful if she had ever visited it herself. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for the sun to set, right?” she asked apprehensively. It was still relatively early.

“Sure, but I was thinking we could head up there well in advance, grab some take-out, and then marvel at the heavens above.” Therese had it all figured out, which Carol found very charming.

“I’ll go change then,” Carol agreed happily. Therese nodded, and retreated to her spot on the couch. As Carol was passing her by on her way to the bedroom, Therese’s cell started ringing on the coffee table. A headshot of a woman with the name ‘Jane’ below appeared on the screen. Carol recognized her instantly as the other girl in the photo strip. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked innocently when Therese made no attempt to pick it up.

“No,” Therese said. She turned the sound off.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they were ready to leave. Carol got into Therese’s Jeep Wrangler, an awe-inspiring box of steel on four sturdy wheels. The car was so clean and neat Carol wondered if Therese had acquired it rather recently. During the short drive in Poughkeepsie she hadn’t really paid any attention to it. She settled on the comfy leather seat next to Therese, ready to embark on what she thought of as an adventure, no less. Carol was thrilled and miraculously refreshed by the turn her day had taken.

Therese suggested a pit stop at her favorite take-out joint. The dinner would be her treat, she insisted. “This way I get to pick what we eat,” she laughed at Carol’s surprise. “I know what’s good here.” She ordered two huge wraps and two chocolate shakes with basil in them to go. When Carol tried to object to the shake, Therese shook her head determinedly. “You’ll just end up stealing mine, and I’ll be left with nothing.” She stored her purchases with great care in different thermal containers.

The ride up to the northern tip of Manhattan didn’t last too long, and Carol wouldn’t even have minded it if it had. She enjoyed watching Therese steer her vehicle along the Henry Hudson Parkway. She was in her element, Carol thought, so self-assured doing what she knew inside-out, for her car must have cruised this road numerous times before. Leaving the bustling beehive of the city behind, Therese seemed to grow more talkative, almost chatty, which suited Carol fine. Stealing glances of her driver, Carol was more than happy to have the role of a listener.

Passing under I-95 and the George Washington Bridge, they were getting close. Right after Fort Tryon Park they reached their destination, the wilderness where “Peter Minuit supposedly bought Manhattan from the Lenapes,” Therese told Carol. “Here you can get an idea of what Manhattan looked like before the Europeans showed up,” she elaborated, once they had left the car and entered the park by foot.

Therese was carrying an impressive, padded canvas bag that seemed ridiculously big for a woman of her size. She didn’t complain though, but she welcomed Carol’s offer to take care of the food and another smaller bag Therese had packed for them. The hike to the top of a 200 ft. hill wasn’t an easy one, and the carry-ons made it even more trying. Seeing Therese drag her oversized case so effortlessly up the trail, Carol viewed her added weights as somewhat miniscule. She gritted her teeth, and pushed on along the narrow footpath.

Leaving the hum of the parkway traffic behind, they were soon surrounded by mere footfall silence and the chitter of an occasional bird. The landscape had changed drastically from the park’s lower reaches with their ball fields and picnic areas. The bare branches of the tulip trees, maples and sweetgums showed signs of rejuvenation, alluding to the sea of green foliage soon to take over. The haze of the evening painted the native caves and glacial erratics with a soft hue, as the trail under their feet turned more rugged and unpredictable the further up they ascended.

Finally at the summit, Therese set her load down and laid out two folded camping chairs she had had attached to the case. Carol sat on one of them almost immediately, breathing heavily out of exertion. The constant fatigue reared its head, even if she was reluctant to admit it. What Carol saw ahead made the steep climb more than worth the effort though. The view over the Hudson took her breath away, the somber waters glistening in pristine silence. The sun was melting away over the river, but the deepening darkness didn’t bother her at all. The cloth of heaven was lit with countless stars. 

“You okay?” Therese asked, glancing at her apprehensively. Carol nodded, surprised at how hungry she suddenly was. “I think we worked up quite an appetite,” Therese smiled, handing Carol a parcel she was already waiting for. She took a hasty bite of a falafel wrap with crunchy pickled onions, grilled scallions and toasted sunflower seeds. As the creamy sesame sauce hit the roof of her mouth, Carol closed her eyes for a rapturous second. “Try some of mine,” Therese urged, handing hers to Carol. The grilled cauliflower and spicy pineapple bursting with bold flavors and textures tasted equally heavenly.

“We can see a lot with the naked eye from here,” Therese said when they were lounging in their chairs and drinking their shakes. “Jupiter, Saturn and Venus,” she explained leaning closer to Carol and finding distant spots at the crystalline sky. “The Big Dipper, of course, and Ursa Minor over there…” Her finger traced the constellations calmly. “But I intend to show you much more,” she stated, winking at Carol. “Can you hold on to this while I mount the telescope?” Therese handed what was left of her shake to Carol.

Therese took out a pro-grade telescope which at first resembled a mere steel cylinder. It started to look more like a viewing device to Carol once attached into its tripod mount. “I have two telescopes,” Therese said, “this one for viewing and another for astrophotography.” She picked her first target and aimed the hefty tube at it, centering the object in the field of view. Having made the needed adjustments, she was ready.

“Have a look,” Therese encouraged Carol. “Let’s gaze at the moon first.” Carol peeked in, and what she saw made her gasp. The huge celestial sphere loomed ahead in quiet solitude. Observed more closely, its pale surface was dented with shallow, empty pools and deep holes echoing some ancient event like mouths transfixed by a silent scream. “That’s the lava-flooded crater Plato,” Therese specified. “It’s about 67 miles wide.” Carol focused on what she was telling. “Right there, just above the Sea of Showers.” What looked like a narrow trail of breadcrumbs beside the sea were the Apennines Mountains, she elaborated. “There’s so much to see in the moon, it never looks quite the same,” Therese concluded reverently. Carol agreed, and it took Therese another half an hour to get her interested in other objects she had in store for her.  

The night grew colder, but Carol found the celestial splendor all too engrossing to even notice it. Therese’s telescope showed her the faint rings of Saturn and the Andromeda Galaxy between Pegasus and Cassiopeia. Therese taught Carol to spot different constellations, spicing up her stories with her knowledge of myths and folklore. 

“We’re right under the star Vega here,” she told Carol, “one of the most luminous stars in our sun’s neighborhood, and only twenty-five light years away from it.” She adjusted the telescope’s settings. “With Altair and Deneb, it forms the so-called summer triangle, thus linking the brightest stars in the constellations of Lyra, Aquila, and Cygnus.” Therese let Carol marvel what she had prepared for her to see this time.

“Do you know what _Tanabata_ is?” she asked quietly. Carol shook her head, still immersed in her view. “It’s a special festival in Japan, dedicated to Vega and Altair, those two stars you’ve been gazing at.”

Surprised, Carol glanced at Therese for a change. “Is there some special meaning to this festival?” she inquired curiously.

Therese’s smile was pensive. “It commemorates the story of two star-crossed lovers, a seamstress and a cow herder.” Carol’s interest was piqued. “Princess Orihime wove beautiful clothes by the heavenly river, the Milky Way, and her loving father was no less than a God of the heavens…” Therese paused to let her words sink in.

“Well, the young girl was really sad since she didn’t have anyone to love because of her endless toil, so daddy decided to find a man for her. She met Hikoboshi, who lived on the other side of the Milky Way, and they fell madly in love right away.” A faint smile touched Therese’s lips. “They got married and pretty soon forgot to take care of their jobs, no more weaving and cows running rampant, you know.” Carol’s easy laughter pleased Therese very much. “Daddy was ticked off big time,” she added, “and he forbade the happy couple to be together.”

Carol knotted her brow. “I trust the daughter didn’t take it too well?”

Grinning, Therese shook her head. “Nope, I’m pretty sure she made quite a spectacle out of herself begging and pleading.” She took her time before explaining it further. “They reached a compromise: daddy would allow the lovers to meet once a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, if Orihime started weaving again.” The look on Therese’s face told Carol she didn’t think much of such an arrangement. “The first time they were supposed to be reunited, the Milky Way was too perilous to cross, and Orihime just lost it completely.” Amused, Carol tried to picture it happening but couldn’t. “She was so desperate, a flock of magpies came and made a bridge for her. Then again, if it rains, even magpies can’t help her to cross over.”

Therese picked up a couple of random items and put them back in her bag. “That’s why every August 7th we make a point of wishing ‘clear skies’ in all earnestness – to imagine the lovely reunion of Vega and Altair across the night sky.” Smiling secretively, Therese cast her eyes down.

It was already after midnight when they dragged their equipment out of the park. Never having been in actual darkness in the city before, Carol found the silence and the starlit solitude eerie and almost troubling. Therese seemed to sense her fearfulness, making sure Carol was never more than a step behind her on the narrow path.

They remained quiet for most of the ride back to Carol’s. Therese seemed preoccupied with musings of her own, but not in any sullen way. The closer they got to Carol’s apartment, the more nervous Carol became, not knowing what to say or do when the Jeep would finally pull up next to her home. When the inevitable happened, she was still clueless about it. Therese got up and helped her to carry her stuff to her door.

“This is it,” Therese said, looking straight in her eyes. “Thank you. I had a great time.”

Carol looked at Therese, distressed by her inability to come up with anything intelligible. “It’s terribly late,” she managed to mumble after an awkward silence. “I mean… you could very well stay here for the night and head back home in the daylight.” Embarrassed, she averted her eyes. “It would be safer, you know.”

Therese’s smile was warm. “I’d love to, but I have an early morning class.” She fell silent for a while as if she wished for Carol to say something more. “I’ve driven many a night so it’s nothing uncommon… no traffic...” Hesitating, she lifted her arms above her waistline – only to cross them awkwardly over her chest. “O-kay,” Therese started, taking a step backward. “I’ll skedaddle so you can get some shut-eye.” She shoved her hands in her pockets in the casual manner Carol was already familiar with and slowly turned to walk back to her car. “Bye.”

Stumped by her own stilted behavior, Carol struggled to get a word out of her mouth. “Therese!” she shouted unexpectedly after her.

“Yes?” Therese turned around in a flash.

“Will you…” Carol fumbled for words. “Will you at least send a text or something to let me know you’re back at home safe and sound?” Her voice was soft and pleading.

“Of course,” Therese assured her, beaming. “Sweet dreams, Carol.” Then she was gone.

* * *

Two hours later Carol lay awake in her bed, both happy and restless over the events of the day. When she closed her eyes, she saw the moon and the planets, the two star-crossed lovers linked across the Milky Way. Her cell phone beeped somewhere beneath the rumpled sheets, and it took her a moment to find it at the foot of her bed. The message was from Therese, and it was short and simple.

_I’m here._


	5. Dust

“DYKE!” Abby howled victoriously. “Do I have to spell it out for you? SHE’S A DYKE!” Carol cringed at her quick-fire assessment. “Okay, I _will_ spell it out for you: the butch mobile – cha’ ching! DYKE! The cargo pants – cha’ ching! DYKE! The boots and the Ray-Bans – cha’ ching! DYKE! The veggie wraps – cha’ ching…” Every time Abby spat out another piece of her evidence, she pumped her fist in the air.

“There’s nothing particularly dykey about vegetarian food,” Genevieve pointed out, interrupting Abby’s uproarious flow to Carol’s significant relief.

“Not _per se_ , but it’s the big picture that counts!” Abby snapped back. “Keep a look out for those plaid flannel shirts and carabiner key chains, darling,” she winked at Carol.

“And what’s with this Jane person? ‘Oh, I’m just going to ignore this caller because she’s just my _good_ _friend_ and she can very well sit back and wait till I’ve _befriended_ another HOT BLONDE!”

Hearing Abby's words, Gen snorted involuntarily. Carol acquiesced to roll her eyes at Abby. She wasn’t going to dignify her poor imitation with a comment of any kind.      

After dinner Gen had refrained from having too much fun at Carol’s expense. She had known her just as long as she had known Abby, but she was aware that her relationship with Carol was different. Abby and Carol had never been afraid to heckle each other, and they indulged in it whenever an opportunity presented itself. Gen was mostly content with just listening to them going at it. This time Abby, however, was making a strong case as far as Carol’s mysterious new acquaintance was concerned. “You have to admit, Carol, this friend of yours, Therese, does sound like…” Gen started apprehensively.

“A DYKE!” Abby intervened again. “C’mon, Carol – whisking your ‘heavenly body’ off to gaze at the moon! Puh-lease…” She was relishing the moment until something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. “Mickey! Quit jumping on the armchair, I don’t want to pay for its repair again.” The skinny little boy ignored her stern reproach.

“It was all perfectly innocent, she was just being a very nice…” Carol attempted helplessly. She had told Abby and Gen most of what had happened during the evening, but she had failed to mention her own mixed feelings, the confusion she had known when Therese had been about to depart. 

“…DYKE!” Abby declared once more. The laughter billowed boisterously out of her, filling her eyes with joyous tears. Little Lou sat across the table from her and just stared at her. “What’s wrong, Lou?” Eyeing her son suspiciously, Abby’s giggles got stuck in her throat. It wasn’t at all like him to sit with adults all quiet and inhibited.

“Our big boy just wants to spend time with his mommas and aunt Carol, don’t you, sweetie pie?” Gen cooed, grabbing Lou gently by the shoulder. His brows askew, the boy took turns looking at all three of them.

“That would be a first,” Abby muttered under her breath, but it didn’t escape her wife.

“Abigail…” Gen articulated with great care. “It is very important for Lou to observe us and to learn how grown-ups interact in social situations.” So far the social situation had been dominated by the indomitable Abby Gerhard, Carol mused.

“Yeah, yeah…” Abby relented. “Sure.” Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why Lou chose to remain seated at the table. His younger brother by ten minutes was, after all, busy pulling down the drapes from the living room window. “MICKEY – I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON’T STOP RIGHT NOW…” Mickey froze for a quick second, but resumed yanking the fabric in the next. “Can’t I just give him the iPad?” Abby pleaded with Gen. “Just fifteen minutes to get his mind off those fu…” Noticing Gen’s disapproving glance, she caught herself at the last minute. “… _fun-filled_ curtains I painstakingly put up just three weeks ago.” She sounded desperate.

“You know how they get if they play games just before bedtime,” Gen reminded her. “And they have used up their screen time today,” she added, aiming the latter part of her statement at Mickey who looked suddenly way too hopeful.

“How they _get_?” Abby gasped incredulously. Though frustrated, she nevertheless decided to drop the subject. Gen had made up her mind, and there was nothing she could do to sway her. “Are you okay, Lou?” Abby asked the mute twin instead. The boy remained stubbornly silent. “Should we take his temperature?” she fretted and walked over to the medicine cabinet. “I’m going to take his temperature.”

Shaking her head, Gen let out a heavy sigh. “He’s fine,” she assured her nervous spouse. “Why don’t you run him a bath?” she suggested. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetie?” Gen smiled at Lou who seemed to be slowly coming out of his self-induced stupor.

Abby picked the boy up in her arms and planted a big, wet kiss right on his cheek. Lou cracked a toothless smile. “CHA’ CHING!” he shouted out to her amusement.

“You devious lil’ pumpkin,” Abby grinned at him lovingly, heading towards the bathroom.  

Having cleared the dishes from the table, Gen sat next to Carol. “I’m glad you had a good day,” she said gently, “and I hope you’ll have more of them. But it’s not linear – grieving, I mean.” The psychotherapist in Gen was rearing its astute red head. “There will be good days and bad days, and you just have to let them happen, take them as they come.” She took Carol’s hands in hers, and gave them an encouraging squeeze. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” Gen held Carol’s gaze tenaciously. “I wouldn’t want you to get broadsided by someone you don’t know and _can’t possibly_ _get to know_ while you’re not in your right mind.” Carol nodded meekly. There was truth to what Gen was saying, and she had to acknowledge that.

“And what’s with the vomiting?” Gen went on. “Have you seen your doctor? It doesn’t sound right, even though it’s not uncommon at a time like this. Maybe she could also give you something for sleeping?” Her voice was laced with concern.

“She’s already taking something,” Abby quipped, returning to the kitchen. “It involves spooning in Poughkeepsie!” She had missed the earlier part of Gen’s comment.

“Give it a rest, will you?” Carol groaned, flipping the bird at Abby behind her left palm so that Mickey couldn’t see it. She knew that Abby meant well, and that this was her way of trying to lighten up the mood, but the joke was wearing thin. “I can look after myself,” Carol said, “and I did see my doctor this afternoon. She ran some tests, and she’ll call me tomorrow.”

Carol had visited her physician for a check-up, anxious to know if anything could be done about her nausea and insomnia. Dr. Phillips had listened to her troubles carefully before giving her opinion. “Let’s draw some blood first. I don’t want to send you off with any prescription without fully understanding what’s going on,” she had insisted. _Another sleepless night ahead_ , Carol had sighed, exiting the medical center.     

“That’s good,” Abby said, visibly relieved by Carol having taken the initiative in whatever it was that was troubling her physically. “And you know I’m just joking around, don’t you?” Carol did know that. “She does sound like a decent person, and I’m glad she sought you out.” Abby’s tone was kind and conciliatory. “In fact I’d like to meet this wonder woman,” she continued pensively. “You should bring her over the next time she’s in town,” she suggested. “I like meeting nice people.”

Her innocent tone didn’t fool Carol. “I’m _sure_ you do,” she chuckled. “God, you’re so transparent…” Carol laughed wholeheartedly, “cute, but transparent.” Abby spread her hands wide, feigning total ignorance over what Carol had just implied.     

* * *

Carol spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out what to do with Harge’s things. _The amount of stuff we accumulate is staggering_ , she mused. She marked three big boxes with words KEEP, DISCARD, and DONATE. A garbage bag was readily at hand for the items she wouldn’t have to think twice about throwing in the trash. Carol gathered his suits and placed them over the couch in their hangers. She couldn’t remember if he had even worn all of them. The blue three-piece tweed suit Harge had worn to Abby and Gen’s wedding brought a smile to her face. He had looked so handsome, secretly thrilled by the unconventionality of his snazzy attire.

“Mother would faint if she saw me in this,” he had chuckled, buttoning his waistcoat in front of the mirror. “She’d rather I use the same tailor as Father to get the trousers properly pleated.” Harge’s mother was hardly a trailblazer, and Carol had come to know it soon enough. Still, they had gotten along relatively well, and Carol had been grateful hers hadn’t become the proverbial, scornful relationship with the mother in-law. She folded the suit away.

They had met only six months before her friends’ wedding. After Carol had admired the suit in a store window, Harge had surprised her by buying it for himself. “For the party, but mostly for you,” he had smiled to her. Harge had done a lot of things like that, gone out of his way to delight and to impress the woman he had met under truly extraordinary circumstances. Carol had been sitting in a transit hall at LAX, when a stranger had inadvertently knocked her suitcase down. The man had apologized profusely for his clumsiness, and Carol hadn’t thought anything more about it. He had, however, seated himself right next to her. Slightly distraught by his decision to do so, Carol had focused on her reading.

When Carol had boarded the plane, she had found herself sitting next to the same man. Maybe it was the troubled look on her face that had prompted him to be unexpectedly chivalrous. “I’m sorry,” he had said thoughtfully, “would you rather sit by yourself? There seems to be plenty of empty seats around, and I can certainly move somewhere else.” His willingness to leave her alone had had a reversed effect on Carol.

“No, it’s quite alright,” she had said instead. An hour into the flight, they had been done with the formal introductions, and when the plane had touched down at JFK, Carol had had a date with Hargess Aird the following Friday.        

“So what’s he like?” Abby had asked her when Carol had finally been able to mention Harge’s name to her. 

“Tall, dark and handsome,” Carol had laughed, “and five years older than me.” His age was a strong recommendation in Carol’s book, her past, younger boyfriends having proven frustratingly disappointing. “He’s kinda serious, the salt-of-the-earth type, if you know what I mean, but not humorless, mind you,” she had added, seeing the worried look on Abby’s face. “He takes things seriously. He takes _me_ seriously.” Carol had appreciated that quality above all else, but over the years she had started to think if his somber-mindedness had had more to do with headstrong stubbornness than any conviction to carefully think through his actions and their possible repercussions. Still, Carol had fallen for him, and when Harge had asked her to marry him, she had willingly accepted his proposal.

* * *

Every marriage goes through rough periods, Carol had thought, and theirs hadn’t been any different. Love changes after the first three years; it becomes a conscious act of choosing one’s partner every day, of wanting to love him instead of endlessly riding the flush of romantic excitement, she had mused to understand what had been going on lately. She recalled the day when it hadn’t felt so easy for her anymore, although it must not have been the first one. Nothing special had happened, for they hadn’t argued or fought in any way. Carol had just stood in the middle of the living room floor and looked how _set_ everything had seemed. There had been absolutely nothing wrong with the room, it had turned out exactly the way they had planned it – the fabrics and the furniture, the carefully selected artworks, all of them free of blemishes.

Standing in the same spot now, Carol noticed specks of dust on the floor next to the couch. Some of it had spread on the rug as well, scattered around the roots of its shaggy piles. They must have come out of Therese’s boots, occurred to her. _Poughkeepsie dust_.

To see the dirt on the floor and to recognize its origin made Therese more real to Carol. She wasn’t a figment of her imagination, but an actual person who wore sturdy boots that gathered grains of sand to mark her trail. And Therese had her own issues, her own reasons not to answer phone calls, not to talk to someone else when Carol was around. The enormity of another human being boggled Carol’s mind, the complexity of the choices he or she made willingly or out of necessity, the sheer fruitlessness of trying to grasp what was underneath and how it correlated with what was being said and done.              

It all frightened her now. It was enough to scare the wits out of her. The epiphany of her living room being the moment when the dust had finally settled, Carol had realized she had settled for scratching the surface instead of looking for more. After that she had made her conscious choice, although it had taken her time. And that choice had inadvertently been strengthened by Harge’s illness.

In a way, it had made things easier for Carol, as terrible as it was for her to admit it. Somewhere at the back of her mind she must have had the notion of temporality, the nagging feeling that eventually the life she had chosen for herself would cease to exist and be replaced by something _different_. Carol had loved her husband, but she hadn’t shared his faith in his full recovery. For so long, Harge had been so confident, so trusting. “I’ll beat this, just keep up with the appointments, and I’ll be ready for fatherhood sooner than you think,” he had encouraged her.

Carol had kept up with them. Harge had taken care of everything before his radiation therapy had kicked in. The clinic had been fully stocked for his wife’s IVF procedures. And she had returned to the clinic again and again, even after it had become obvious that Harge wouldn’t make it. Maybe it had been the guilt her disbelief had brought about, and the need to balance it with tireless hope for fertility that could somehow miraculously transform both of their lives. Her last visit had been only about a month and a half ago, Carol recalled. She had had the next one scheduled as well, but the ultimate change in Harge had finally brought her back to her senses. _No more_.          

The suits lying on the couch depressed her. She would get rid of all of them, Carol decided. Why would she keep them here when they could be of use to someone? Abby had volunteered to help her sort out Harge’s belongings. Carol had initially refused her offer but now she thought it might be the best way to do it. At least she wouldn’t be distracted by every single item she happened to pick up. Abby would roll up her sleeves and get this done in a couple of hours Carol knew, and the apartment would be freed of the past interfering with her present.

Her eyes caught the patinated sextant on the mantelpiece. This one she would keep. Just in case.               

* * *

The next morning Carol woke up to her cell phone ringing on the nightstand. Her eyes at half mast, she picked it up. What she heard made them fly wide open. 


	6. Stay the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long chapter this time, and before you get all worked up, please bear in mind that the chapter title refers to a song... :)

”Pregnant, huh?” Abby couldn’t think of anything else to say. Carol kept stirring her latte, the leafy pattern on the foam soon dissolving into the steamy liquid. She regretted choosing this particular coffee shop for their meeting, people flocking everywhere and bumping into their table with their trays as they went by. “That is… good, isn’t it?” Abby tried, overwhelmed by Carol’s news. This she hadn’t seen coming, even if Carol’s symptoms had reminded her of Gen’s pregnancy. Harge’s terminal phase having taken so long, Abby just hadn’t thought it possible.

Her elbows on the table, Carol leaned forward to put distance between her and the other patrons in the place. She ran her fingers through her hair, and found the back of her neck hot and damp from her slapdash shower. Her doctor’s surprise announcement had punched all air out of her lungs, and she was still reeling from the immediate shock. “Nine weeks already,” she mumbled. “And apparently I’m in fine form. The sicker the mother, the healthier the baby.” _Baby_. How very odd it was to say it out loud, she thought. It almost sounded like something violent and foreign had been placed inside her instead of it growing gently, meditatively within the confines of her body.

“You’re not showing yet,” Abby stated the obvious. She wished Gen was there with them. She would have known just the right thing to say.

“It may take a while,” Carol said quietly. “It’s early.” She had missed her period, but in the midst of Harge’s last weeks she hadn’t really paid attention to it. Besides, it hadn’t been the first time her cycle was out of whack. Stress and irregular hours can do that.

To expect a child now after all the agony of not being able to have one felt like cruel irony. Only a year ago she would have given anything to bequeath Harge the glimmer of hope he had looked forward to. Carol had imagined what it would be like to give him the good news. She had replayed the scenario over and over again in her head with only minor alterations. All of them had included a moment of exultation, Harge’s eyes being lit up and his attitude thoroughly changed. The only part she had been unsure about was hers, the way she would act in her husband’s fantasy. The feelings of cautious joy and pure bewilderment had alternated in her mind, rendering her restless and fearful every time she had taken the pregnancy test.

“What the fuck was I thinking…” Carol whispered agitatedly. The only thing racing through her mind at the moment was disturbing. She wouldn’t be able to let go of the past, not after this. She knew that the life inside her was no bigger than a cherry, but that her understanding of it amounted hardly to the size of its stone.  

“Stop,” Abby said, “that’s not helpful at all. Give yourself a break.” It was the best she could come up with. “You went along with it, and it happened. It’s not the end of the world.” Abby pressed her forehead gently against Carol’s. “You’re not alone. You have us. Always.” Her confidence gradually returning, Abby made sure Carol knew she meant every single word.

Savoring the truth, they sat in silence for another hour. Their thoughts crossed and collided, hesitated and turned, the noise of the café soon drowned out and defunct.

* * *

Walking back home, Carol saw a man who was half inside his car, installing a toddler’s car seat in its place. The hem of his red polo shirt was showing under a knit, green sweater, and he seemed to be struggling with his task. He looked a bit like Harge, Carol thought, broad-shouldered and muscular. But more than any outer resemblance, it was the way he went about his relatively simple business. The stubborn insistence to make it happen without wanting to consult a manual or to ask for help was all too familiar to Carol.

Carol had seen many _harges_ over the past few days, unknown men reflecting his distinguishable qualities, the telltales of his outward appearance. Every time she had been startled, slightly perturbed to witness a familiar characteristic or gesture approaching her or crossing a street in front of her car. Then the stranger had either come close enough or turned around to look at her to shatter the illusion.

It was the appearance of Harge’s former self that now kept resurfacing from the tired, faceless crowds. The hunky appeal of his handsome face, untouched by any illness or hardship, was what she chose to remember. Carol was grateful for that, even if it felt like sugarcoating.

She would have to call Harge’s parents and give them the news. They would be ecstatic, Carol thought, even though the concept of their late son and his wife seeking the help of a fertility clinic would most likely be disturbing to them at first. “The risk of miscarriage drops dramatically after ten to twelve weeks, so you might like to keep this under wraps for a little while longer,” Dr. Phillips had explained. Carol had told Abby, but she was in no hurry to spread the news to her in-laws.

 _The news_. Carol thought of Therese, if and when she would meet her. Would she tell Therese about the baby? If they were to become close, she would have to. _Real friends tell each other everything relevant_. Would Therese be happy for her? Or would she lose interest in her new acquaintance hampered by a bun in the oven? Therese just didn’t strike Carol as the type who hung around small kids. Not that she had anything to base her assumption upon, she soon realized.

All night Therese had held Carol in her arms in Poughkeepsie, and in the morning she had reached for her hand – to comfort, to support, to signal her understanding. To defend herself against Abby’s teasing, Carol had pointed out that _nothing_ had happened since, nothing _physical_ anyway to justify such tireless ribbing. “Abby, I think this could be a beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she had paraphrased _Casablanca_ to her.

“Tell me one thing, dear Bogie,” Abby had been quick to ask. “Did you guys hug when she first met you on the street in front of your house?” Carol had had no idea where this was coming from. “No? How about when she was leaving – you had just had a great night, _such lovely_ _camaraderie_ … surely a quick hug, a hasty peck on the cheek between friends?” When Carol had neglected to answer, Abby had smiled tenderly at her. “I rest my case,” she had acquiesced to say.  

Carol lay down on the couch, her head resting on the spot where Therese had sat the other evening. Her temples throbbing, she closed her eyes and hoped to take a nap. _How different everything had been only yesterday_ , Carol mused, depressed. And the day before, gazing at the skies and being giddy over just feeling _alive_ for a change. She had seen the moon, the planets, the starlit lovers above, yet none of it would have meant anything, had she seen them in a different context or with a different person. She knew that. But it still didn’t _mean_ anything, and after this morning, it even _couldn’t_ , Carol suspected.

The sleep eluded her again, and despite a few eyefuls of slumber, Carol gave up. The date on her smart phone said ‘Wednesday’. For a while she couldn’t remember why it looked so _important_. It was the Vassar Observatory day, the one night the week the doors were open to the public. Carol thought about just showing up there without telling Therese about it first, but the plan had a major flaw in it: Carol couldn’t be sure if she was even working there tonight.

 _Why not be straightforward about it?_ Carol mused, dismissing her initial scheme as unnecessarily – _coy_. She typed Therese a short message, asking what time tonight’s show would begin. She had hardly sent it, when the phone started ringing.

“So you do talk on the phone occasionally?” Carol said as her greeting.

“Hey…” Therese replied. “Too lazy to text, so I decided to make a rare exception.” Carol could almost hear her smiling. “There’s no show at the observatory tonight. The weather’s shitty and it’s not going to clear up any time soon.” Therese sounded genuinely apologetic.

“Oh, that’s really… I’m sorry to hear that,” Carol rambled, her voice giving away her disappointment. She wouldn’t be seeing any celestial objects or Therese for at least another week. She hadn’t prepared herself for this awkwardness either, she lamented privately.

“Carol…” Therese started pensively. “Since you’re apparently free tonight, I’m going to ask you this.” She drew a hasty breath. “I’m about to head down there shortly, and it just occurred to me to ask if you’d like to hang out with me?” Her voice was calm and steady.

“Yes,” Carol blurted out much too soon, but Therese didn’t mind it at all. “Where will this take place?” Carol needed to specify a moment later.

“What?” asked the amused voice at the end of the line.

“Hanging out,” Carol said, chuckling.

“Here and there,” Therese teased Carol, her voice all smiles. “I’ll see you around 5.30.”  

Reinvigorated, Carol abandoned her repose and darted towards the bedroom. She would have two hours and 28 minutes to decide what she would wear tonight. Carol wasn’t sure what the proper outfit for ‘hanging out’ was, but she was certain she would come up with something.

* * *

Therese stood behind Carol’s door at the appointed time. To Carol’s surprise, she seemed reluctant to step inside at first. “Do you like flowers?” Therese asked after a moment’s hesitation. “I have flowers in my car but now I started to think that I didn’t see any when I was here, so maybe you don’t _like_ flowers…” Troubled by the second thoughts she was having, Therese exhaled impatiently. “I mean I can go and get them for you, if you want me to, but it’s no big deal if you don’t.” She leaned her right arm against the door frame. “I can always take them to my mom if you’re allergic or something.”

Seriously tickled, Carol bit the corner of her lip. “Get the damn flowers,” she said. Her eyes were brimming with amusement. Therese’s face lit up, and she ran back outside.

Just when Carol was starting to wonder what was keeping her, she heard Therese’s voice from the front entrance. “Can you help me out? I’m sorta stuck…” Whatever she was doing seemed to be giving her a lot of trouble. Finding Therese’s floral bind curious, Carol wasted no time joining her downstairs. Therese’s statement about having flowers in her car seemed suddenly like an understatement to Carol. Carrying six huge boxes under her arm, Therese was trying to get through the front door with all of them intact.  

Carol grabbed the ones about to slip from Therese’s grip. She leaned her back heavily against the door to keep it open for Therese. Once they had worked their way up to Carol’s apartment, Therese laid the boxes on the kitchen island. “My step-sister’s a florist, and she was about to throw these away,” she explained. “That would’ve been just plain stupid.”

Carol saw Therese’s gesture in a slightly different light now, and it tinted her cheeks momentarily. “Well, it was kind of you to think of me,” she mumbled uncertainly.

Therese was busy taking the lids off of the wide, shallow boxes. “I thought these might bring some color and brighten the place up,” she started apprehensively. “I think this is a great apartment, don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add, “but also a bit… _bleak_?” She didn’t sound critical, just observant and slightly worried.                   

Carol wondered if she should hug Therese to thank her. It would also give her an opportunity to prove Abby wrong, occurred to her suddenly. “I agree, bleak it is,” she admitted. “Thank you.” Her hands remained glued to her hips. “Let’s see if I can find vases for them.”

 While gathering the suitable glassware on the marble top beside the sink, Carol kept looking over her shoulder to see what kind of secrets the white boxes hid. Therese picked up a handful of lavender and pale pink sweet peas, that seemed so delicate compared to the thickly lobed blush peonies and the bold red ranunculus waiting their turn.

“These are casualties of some wedding that never took place,” Therese revealed. “Carly had ordered everything for the bouquets and the overall decoration, and then they just cancelled at the last minute.” She scoffed at her own thoughts, which Carol guessed weren’t all that sympathetic to the not-so-happy couple.

“Carly is your sister?” she asked, opening another box that contained purple freesias and yellow-hued irises. The gentle fragrance of the freesia was innocent and sweet like the dainty flower itself.

“She’s Bob’s daughter from his first marriage,” Therese said, trying to figure out where to put the roses and the tulips.

“And Bob is..?” Carol asked, amused by the notion of having to drag information out of Therese.

“Bob’s my stepdad,” Therese explained. “And the only dad I’ve ever known. My biological father died when I was just six-months-old so I don’t have any recollection of him.” She took a knife and cut a quarter of an inch off the bottom of the rose stems, at an angle.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Carol started empathetically. “It must’ve been very difficult for your mother.” She thought about another baby who would never know his or her father either.

“It was, of course,” Therese acknowledged, “but she had the good fortune of meeting Bob and starting her life all over.” She finished trimming the roses by removing all the leaves below the water line. “Well, _I_ had the good fortune of meeting Bob,” Therese continued soon after. “I don’t think anyone could’ve loved me like he has,” she said. “I mean everyone loves differently, and I’m not pitching Bob against my real father in any way, if you know what I mean?” Therese glanced at Carol expectantly.

“I think so, yes,” Carol nodded enthusiastically. A part of her was simply overwhelmed by Therese’s sudden influx of words. She took the vase Therese had just prepared and started towards the living room.

“Whoa, sweetheart… you need to jazz it up first,” Therese blurted out to Carol’s great astonishment. Flustered, Carol stopped in her tracks and turned around to look at her. “Umm… that’s what Bob always says,” Therese hastened to defend herself. She chuckled nervously, dodging Carol’s eyes. “He always says stuff like that… he’s kinda adorable.”      

 _You’re adorable_ , Carol thought out of the blue. She put the vase back on the island, stupefied by such a small, simple truth; one of many that had started to pile up on the back of her mind like evidence deceptively ready to state its case.

“But these _do_ need to be jazzed up,” Therese pointed out, scratching the back of her head. “Do you have 7Up?” Not waiting for an answer, she peeked inside the fridge and picked up a can. “One part of this, three parts of water, and a couple of drops of bleach,” Therese concluded. “Extend the life span.” Having said it, she glanced nervously at Carol. “I’m sorry, that came out all wrong.”

Carol didn’t find Therese’s quip insensitive. Truth be told, she hadn’t even noticed it but she appreciated her gesture anyway. “It’s alright,” she said. “No need to walk on egg shells on my account.” She smiled at Therese to convince her of the sincerity of her sentiment. “I don’t want _you_ to act any different around me than you do.” Therese looked at her intently as if trying to grasp the real dimensions of her words.

“Let’s not then,” Therese grinned at Carol mischievously. “Wanna take a ride with me?” she asked her, throwing the question like a gauntlet at Carol’s feet.

“Sure,” Carol replied, her stomach in lovely, ethereal knots. The uneasy fluttering and the sudden elation seesawed inside her, but it wasn’t all there was to it. What Carol felt bore a semblance of happiness, and it was more than what she had known for a very long time. Surrounded by the spring blooms, so impetuous in their beauty, she would have taken a trip to moon and back, had Therese only asked her to.

Therese was the unannounced sally off the beaten track of Carol’s life, and Carol knew it. She wanted to level with her, to tell Therese about the cherry, the rambunctious pip of new life in her, but the need to cling to what was perfectly unmarred by her reality was too strong, too intoxicating. _Chances are, she won’t understand, so why not be misunderstood tomorrow instead of today?_ she questioned in silence and not for the first time today either.

* * *

After having transformed the apartment into a ‘fragrant spring meadow’, as Carol put it, or, according to Therese, an ‘ad hoc espousal’, they left Manhattan. This took Carol some time to figure out, since Therese refused to divulge their destination. Less than an hour later they arrived at Scotch Plains, New Jersey.

Therese parked her Jeep in the driveway in front of a two-car garage. She had taken such a quick turn to her right Carol hadn’t had the chance to see where they had ended up. “You seemed so curious I thought why not see for yourself,” Therese grinned.

“See what?” Carol asked, gazing at a rather plain ranch house with a salmon brick exterior, cedar siding and a side-gabled roof. A single, wide bay window dominated the front next to the entrance. Everything looked well-tended: the quaint house, the drowsy lawn.

“ _Casa_ McElroy. My home.” Therese flashed a wicked smile, guessing she wouldn’t have been able to convince Carol to join her had she known about it. Before Carol had the chance to fully grasp what was happening, Therese had opened the door and walked right into the arms of a bulky man in his late fifties. “Carol, this is Bob – Bob, meet Carol.”

Bob McElroy had a kind, round face with crinkly signs of regular, hearty laughs. He wasn’t a tall man, and he most certainly wasn’t particularly attractive either, but what he lacked in good looks, he made up in unbridled enthusiasm. His scrubby beard and equally puny moustache might have struck Carol as comical, had she not seen how tremendously happy Bob was to reunite with his daughter again. The man wearing a bright red CBGB T-shirt under a multi-colored, checked shirt was drying his eyes when he finally turned his attention on his guest.

“What a great name,” Bob grinned. “I bet you know the Chuck Berry classic by heart?” Carol stared at him nonplussed. “ _’Oh Carol, don’t let him steal your heart away…’_ ” Bob waited for a sign of recognition that never came.

“Come on, Bob,” a friendly female voice chimed in. “Let her in, for God’s sake, before any third degree.” The woman took Carol aside, and gently ordered her husband to go and set the table. “I’m Rose, Therese’s mother.” She had the same raven hair as her daughter, only with streaks of grey marking the passage of time. “And those two _extremely impolite_ nerds on the couch are Dannie and Phil, Therese’s brothers.“ Though the two young men in their early twenties still chose not to pay attention to their arrival, Rose’s dissatisfaction with her sons’ behavior was only for show. “Sweetie,” she turned to face her daughter, “you have no idea what it means to Bob that you remembered.”

Now it was Therese’s time to look confused. “Umm… Mom, just between you and me, what was it again I so fortuitously remembered?”

Rolling her eyes at her daughter, Rose chuckled in disbelief. “The _Chicago_ Tribute Night at the Crossroads…” she muttered under her breath. The sharp look in her eyes told Carol that Therese would have a snowball’s chance in hell to wiggle her way out of it.

“I’m not sure if we can come,” Therese started, glancing nervously at Carol. “It’s not that I don’t want to…”

Bob raised his palm behind his left ear. “What am I hearing? Who’s not coming?” His question seemed to awaken Dannie and Phil as well. Carol was startled to see the younger, leaner versions of Bob abandon their post and hear the reason for their sister’s hesitation.

“It’s me,” Carol intervened on Therese’s behalf. “I need to get back to Manhattan before it gets too late.” Had Carol for a second thought she had done a good job avoiding an impending 1980s schlock hit parade, such conviction faded away sooner than anyone saw coming. Bob wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

“You can’t go.” Bob said with the benevolence of a guy who knows he’s right. “You just got here. Besides…” He glanced at his boys, making sure they were on the same wavelength with their old man.

“ _’If you leave me now, you'll take away the biggest part of me…’_ ” sang Bob’s tender tenor voice unexpectedly.

“ _’Uuh, uuh, uuh, uuh, no, baby please don’t go…’_ ” accompanied Dannie and Phil, their eyes rapturously closed.

 _One way of being put on the spot_ , Carol thought, bowled over by the abrupt display of musical emotion. She didn’t have to look at Therese to know how amused she was. Carol could feel it in her bones. “Umm… okay,” she said, her face deepening in color. If there was a quick comeback for being serenaded out of all objections, Carol didn’t know it.

“Then it’s settled!” Bob exclaimed, exuding the same kind of excitement Carol had witnessed in Therese when Carol had agreed to go stargazing with her. The way his eyes sparkled, quickened out of the pleasure of knowing what was to come was disarming and lovely. Carol thought how insignificant of a part biology played in the manners people adopt. The wiry Therese Belivet was undoubtedly the antithesis of the stubby Bob McElroy, but observed at close range she was indeed her father’s daughter.

“We’d better eat, so we won’t be late,” Rose McElroy stated. “Sit down while I finish the salad.” She started towards a spacious kitchen next to the dining area.

“Why don’t you show Carol your room, T?” Phil taunted her sister who wasn’t beneath resorting to well-aimed jabs to shut his smartass mouth.

“Yeah, sis,” Dannie retorted, “as long as the door stays open!” Therese leapt all over his youngest sibling, polishing her knuckles on his shaggy hair.

“You guys are so funny, aren’t you?” Therese laughed nervously. Her mother seemed to pick up on her embarrassment.

“Carol,” Rose said, “Will you help me?” Carol was more than happy to oblige.

“Have you known Therese for long?” Rose asked her when they were no longer within earshot. Dicing cherry tomatoes, Carol shook her head. “Well, she doesn’t need me to advertise her good qualities,” Rose said quietly. “Whenever Therese knows what she wants, she’ll go after it,” she continued. “Like this astrophotography thing.”

Carol looked up from her chopping board. “It is an admirable quality, I’m not sure if I can say the same about myself.” It had always been easier to float along the current instead of making waves.

“I said _whenever_ she wants,” Rose felt the need to specify, “bias being on the _‘when’_ because first you have to know what it is you want.” She sighed, gazing at her daughter who was teaching the facts of life to her hapless brothers. “I know I should just keep my mouth shut but I’d hate to see her get hurt again.” Not unlike Therese, Rose cast her eyes down. “A selfish wish in a way, since I don’t think _I_ could stand it anymore.”

Carol didn’t know what to say or if she was even supposed to say anything. Nevertheless she felt a jolt in her stomach, a nervous twitch resembling worry or guilt or both. “Therese called me yesterday and told me about you,” Rose said. “Only good things, my dear,” she smiled at Carol, noticing her alarmed surprise. She picked up the salad bowl and motioned towards the dining area.

They squeezed in around the small table, arms and legs brushing against each other on both sides. Carol sat sandwiched between Therese and Rose, aware of the turbulence the former’s proximity was capable of causing in her. Every time anyone moved or reached out for something, be it the potatoes, the gravy or the drumsticks, the ring around the table rippled, intensified. Therese’s thigh inched against Carol’s or the sleeve of her shirt grazed the cashmere of Carol’s tight-fitting sweater. Had they turned their heads too recklessly to face one another, their noses might have collided, raced through Carol’s mind.

The manner in which the McElroy family gobbled down their meal left no doubt in Carol’s mind of their relative disinterest in food. Or maybe they were just anxious to get going, Bob checking the time every two minutes. _Papa & The Boys_ would be performing in a bar not too far away from their home. Specializing in cover bands and hit music of yesteryears, the joint in question seemed a very familiar one to the McElroys.

“Is Carly coming?” Therese asked Phil when they were clearing out the table. Glancing at Bob, Therese’s brother shrugged his shoulders.

When their father had left to pack the car, Dannie let out a sad little whistle. “Dad had a run-in with Jack, so we’re not sure if Carly’s gonna be there either,” he explained. Jack Taft was Carly’s husband, who had had the bromance of a lifetime with his father-in law, Therese told Carol. He had also played the bass in the band.

“What happened?” Therese asked, shocked to hear such unnerving news.

“Artistic differences,” Phil elaborated. “Jack wanted to play _Journey_.” He drew a long, exasperated breath.

“Good God…” Therese gasped. “Poor Carly, I had no idea.” Carol couldn’t quite figure out why _Journey_ was bad and _Chicago_ good, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

* * *

Half an hour later they were ready to leave. “We’ll follow you,” Therese said, flicking the car keys in the air.

“Okay, Teddy,” Bob confirmed, winking at both his daughter and Carol. “See you in a bit.” A slightly bruised Ford station wagon pulled out of the garage and onto the driveway.

“Teddy, huh?” Carol asked as soon as Therese’s Jeep had settled into a comfortable distance from Bob’s weather-beaten vehicle.  

“Yeah,” Therese smiled warmly. “It’s either Ted, Teddy or T, hardly ever Therese with Bob or my brothers.” She sounded happy and relaxed.

“Why is that?” Carol asked, curious to know the nickname’s origin.

“When Dannie and Phil were just toddlers, I went through this really intense tomboy phase,” Therese elaborated. “And I was envious of my brothers, because I wanted to be a boy as well.” She took a slow turn to the right, following Bob’s taillights. “One time when we were visiting Bob’s relatives in Rhode Island, I got really upset because everyone was gushing over what a pretty girl I was despite my unisex looks,” Therese explained. “So the next time we saw someone I hadn’t met before, Bob introduced me as his son ‘Theodore’. I loved it.” The memory was happy and serene, enough to warm not only Therese but also anyone privileged to hear it, Carol thought. Her appreciation of Bob McElroy soared sky high.

* * *

They arrived at the _Crossroads_ half an hour before the scheduled show time. The place was filling up fast, which wasn’t always the case with the cover bands in there, Rose told Carol. The sound check awaited but Bob wasn’t in any hurry to do it just yet. His eyes narrowed, he kept sniffing the air of the rowdy barroom like an old sea dog on the look out for the perfect storm. “It’s going to be amazing,” he declared, grinning from ear to ear. “Outstanding!”

While waiting for the show to begin, Carol fetched Therese a craft beer from the bar, settling for a club soda herself. “If you want to have _a real drink_ ,” she said to Therese, “I can drive the Jeep back to Manhattan.” Even if she couldn’t drink herself, it didn’t have to affect Therese in any way.

Therese looked at Carol as if she had said something truly fantastic. “ _You_ driving _The Jeeper?”_ Therese repeated the idea incredulously. “I. Don’t. Think. So.” Hearty laughter followed her measured disbelief.

“Oh really?” Carol scoffed at Therese’s put-down. “You don’t think I can drive your car?” she questioned, ready to get to the bottom of this.

“Too bad you weren’t here for the _Beatles Tribute_ ,” Therese replied, a faint smile flickering around her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carol asked, stunned by an answer that made no sense to her.

“Oh, nothing,” Therese said, taking a slow sip from her bottle. To her great relief, _Papa and the Boys_ were just about to start their turn. 

The showroom was crowded enough before the band had played the first bars of their opening number, but the actual sounds served to jam-pack the area even tighter. Rose had chosen to sit at the bar, but Therese and Carol had decided to brave the immediacy of both the live act and its no-holds-barred audience. They stood side by side, trying to maintain a safe distance from the crowd mobbing the limited space right in front of the stage.

> **_I don't want you to misunderstand me / I just want to say what's on my mind…_ **

 

More people kept pushing in, juiced up by too many beers and a hefty dose of 80s nostalgia. Therese moved closer to Carol, willing to bump out the ones who accidentally veered her way. Bob had the audience eating out of his hand already, but Carol struggled to appreciate the band’s efforts. It got extremely hard during the refrain.

 

> **_Stay the night, there's room enough here for two / Stay the night, I'd like to spend it with you_ **
> 
> **_Stay the night, why don't we call it a day / No on can stop us, and nothing is in the way_ **

Carol avoided looking at Therese altogether. Her mind awhirl, she didn’t need to glance at the tacky wall mirror either. She knew only too well how deeply red her cheeks, ears and neck were.

 

> _**It comes from friendly conversation / And if you still don't have a clue** _
> 
> **_Unless there's something else you've got in mind / We've got better things to do_ **

“I THINK HE’S DOING A GREAT JOB,” Therese shouted over the general mayhem.

 

> **_Just to have you near me_ **

 

“WHAT?” Carol asked, still unwilling to quite look at her.

> **_And when I get next to your body_ **

“BOB’S GOOD!” Therese attempted again.

> **_Just to have you near me_ **

“WOULD I WHAT?” Carol asked, confused.

When Dannie revved his guitar into a savage solo, Therese gave up trying. Amused, she leaned against the wall and enjoyed what little was left of her beer.

* * *

“ANYONE FEELING INSPIRED TONIGHT?” Bob greeted his grateful audience after he and the boys had tackled their first four numbers. Drying his forehead with a handkerchief, he took a sip from a water bottle. “Okay, gentlemen, time to show your soft side to the ladies,” he urged. “Fill the floor.” Grinning, he nodded at the boys. “Oh, and this means you too, Theodore…”

Therese didn’t say anything at first, and had Carol not turned to look at her, she probably wouldn’t have at all. The temptation to do so was just too big, Carol thought. “So how about it?” Therese asked discreetly. “He’s not going to let me off the hook if I don’t at least ask you.” 

> **_You're the meaning in my life / You're the inspiration_ **

Extending her left hand to Therese, Carol refrained from using words at all. Closing the gap, she placed her right hand on Therese’s shoulder to allow herself be led on the dance floor. Despite all her earlier musings, all the sweet discomfort she had experienced, Carol found their sudden nearness natural and fulfilling. Being able to feel the contours of Therese’s back under her palm and having her slender frame compliment her own body in every slow move suffused Carol with acute pleasure.

> **_You bring feeling to my life / You're the inspiration_ **

_So many things I have forgotten_ , Carol thought, pressed against the warmth of Therese, _yet I doubt if I’ll ever lose this._ The small disco ball above diffused the white light into patches of silver climbing up and down their bodies. 

> **_Want to have you near me / I want to have you hear me saying_ **
> 
> **_"No one needs you more than I need you"_ **

The power ballad fading out, the steps on the dance floor slowed down and steered the couples away. Therese led Carol into the barroom and found a secluded table for them. She looked at Carol but didn’t say anything. Carol wanted to ask what Therese was thinking but couldn’t. She stared at Therese’s hands on the table instead, at a loss what to do or say.

“Want to get out of here?” Therese asked calmly.

“Yes,” Carol said.

 


	7. The Exorcist

Having said goodbye to Rose, they headed to the parking lot. The noise of the bar still ringing in her ears, Carol was grateful to get into the car with Therese. It had started to rain, the tentative droplets turning slowly into a steady drizzle. A shudder ran through Carol as she closed the car door behind her, relieved to lock the cold air outside. Therese turned the heater on and pulled out of the half-empty lot as inconspicuously as she could as if afraid her car would somehow disturb the concert in progress.  
  
Carol listened to the drum of the rain accelerating, breaking away from the pattern it had assumed only a moment ago. The Jeep’s headlights scoured the road ahead, zooming confidently through what was now a dense downpour. Therese was quiet, her attention seemingly focused on driving. Carol couldn’t tell if she was calm or agitated, happy or sad. Her face, illuminated from time to time by the lights of the traffic, gave away nothing. Yet Carol knew she looked far too serene to really be that way.  
  
Carol didn’t mind the silence, for they were quiet for a reason. They might have left the dance floor but its spell was still unbroken. Each time she glanced at Therese, the tiny mirrored orb took another spin on its axis, startling her with photons of hope.  
  
To just sit there, to remain perfectly still, soothed her heavy heart. For once Carol didn’t feel the need to rush forward or to find her answers in advance. She had always been like that, impatient to wait around and let things take their time. Even with a bad premonition, she had been the same – intolerant to the point of being quarrelsome when faced with delay, no matter how disadvantageous it might prove to be for her. “Are you the kind of person who has to read the last page of a book before deciding if you want to buy it?" Abby had jokingly asked her. “Why ruin the story before it has even begun?” she had questioned, shaking her head in disbelief.  
  
It wasn’t the journey Carol didn’t trust, it was the catharses she most often found lacking. She was afraid that whatever she tried on would inescapably turn mundane or habitual, as if hers were a kind of a reverse Midas touch that turned potential gold into ashes. Since life itself couldn’t be a disappointment, she herself had to be one.

While studying drama at Vassar, Carol had learned about _hamartia_ , a term outlined by Aristotle himself that referred to the protagonist’s ultimate failing in a tragedy. At times she had been prone to wonder if her constant vacillating stemmed from a similar source, from some tragic flaw in her character that bred discontent. Still, it wasn’t what the concept had originally implied. Hamartia meant missing the mark and making a mistake instead of choosing the right path or objective, it had nothing to do with moral failure. Not knowing better, she had chosen foolishly, mistaken one thing for another. Being aware of it hadn’t offered much comfort, though.

Therese’s hands rested on the steering wheel, immobile, as the car sped along the I-95. There was nothing commonplace in this most ordinary of all situations, Carol thought, and it gave her pleasure to think so even if she couldn’t quite explain why. They would talk soon enough, but right now she wasn’t going to fracture the delicate aftermath of something that hadn’t needed words in the first place.

 _'What you do still betters what is done,'_ Carol remembered from the production of _The Winter’s Tale_ she had been a part of at Vassar. _‘When you speak, sweet, I’d have you do it ever… When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that; move still, still so, and own no other function: each your doing, so singular in each particular, crowns what you are doing in the present deed, that all your acts are queens.’_

Carol hadn’t thought of Shakespeare in a long time nor had she known she would still remember the passages barely understood all those years ago. She was heavy, wondrously so, like a feather weighted down by the gravity of now.

* * *

When the Jeep roared into the Lincoln Tunnel, Carol’s heart started to beat faster. _Butterflies_ , she thought, leveling her breath. The fluttering sensation got only worse once they resurfaced on the side of Manhattan. The lights of the city stung her eyes through the streaks of rain missed by the wiper blades. The heater was still on, blowing hot air inside. Carol hadn’t noticed how warm the car had become, how potently the heat had stuck to its interior. The leather and the rubber mats smelled odious all of a sudden.

 _I’m alright_ , Carol repeated between pained breaths though her throat felt oddly tight. _I will make it if I’ll only concentrate_. Yet she knew what was happening, the nausea building up inside her like a balloon inflating on its own. _Only a couple of blocks anymore_ , she calmed her racing heart. Every turn the car made jolted her guts, forcing her to swallow, to push back what was already on its way up. “Therese…” she managed to mumble, but the effort it took undid what little was left of her resistance. In a violent surge of inner revolt, she threw up on the floor and on the dashboard above the glove compartment, on herself and, what was the worst of all, partly on Therese as well.  
  
The Jeep slowed down and came to a halt less than ten seconds later. Stunned, Therese stared at the few choice bits of her mother’s supper all over her lap. “I’m so sorry!” Carol cried out in despair. “I’m so sorry…I’m so, so…” As if moving in slow motion, Therese put her hand gently on Carol’s left shoulder. When Carol dared to look at her, she couldn’t have been more surprised. Therese’s whole being was jerking out of irrepressible, silent laughter.  
  
“It’s okay,” Therese gasped, droll tears welling from her eyes. “It really is,” she added breathlessly, squeezing Carol’s arm. Therese sounded suddenly as if a heavy burden had just been lifted off of _her_ shoulders. “And I’d show you just how okay it is, but I’m not going to since you’re covered in puke…” By now she was convulsing with laughter. “And you did a pretty good job messing me up as well!” She took another toll of the damage and guffawed. “Way to go, Regan!”  
  
It took a while before Carol could see any humor in their predicament, but because of Therese she couldn’t stay mortified forever. Still chuckling, Therese parked the Jeep in the driveway next to Carol’s car. Its interior should be hosed down immediately, she explained once she had managed to calm down. “I should do it,” Carol offered sheepishly, but Therese wouldn’t hear of it.  
  
_“You_ washing _The Jeeper_? _”_ she contested Carol again. “Well, some other time in some other gear, _maybe_ , but not now…” Grinning, Therese picked up the garden hose and proceeded to salvage her beloved four-wheeler from its foul new lining.  
  
_Did she just..?_ Carol narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what Therese had meant by her off-the-cuff remark. _Nah_. “Fine,” Carol said, rolling her eyes at such cockiness, “have it your way.”

* * *

Carol was in the shower when Therese came upstairs. Soon she heard a knock on the bathroom door. “Is there another one here somewhere or should I just wait for my turn?” Therese asked through the half-closed door.  
  
“You can use the bathroom next to the guest bedroom,” Carol said. “I put some clean clothes and a towel for you there next to the sink.” The shower pouring down on her, she felt vulnerable and still ashamed of what had just happened.  
  
“Thanks.” Therese hovered in the doorway for a few moments longer before taking her cue.  
  
Fifteen minutes later Therese was done with her freshening up. She was wearing a loose flannel shirt over a white tank top and a pair of green boxers that had evidently survived Carol’s bilious outburst. The plaid shirt looked familiar but Carol didn't recall having put it there for her. "This was right next to the ones you’d left me so I chose it instead. It looked snuggly," Therese said, smoothing the soft fabric between her fingers.

It used to belong to Harge, Carol remembered suddenly. Therese's hair was damp, barely towel dry. It looked nice, becoming, Carol thought. "The pants were a bit baggy so I skipped them..." She paused to hesitate. "In fact I was kinda hoping I could stay here tonight," Therese continued. "It's late and I'm not too keen on driving the wet Jeep back just yet." She looked at Carol expectantly. "If that's okay with you?" Her eyes were alert, attentive.  
  
"Of course," Carol replied, wishing she had suggested it herself after all the trouble she had put Therese through. "There's no way you're going to take _that_ car back to Poughkeepsie,” she pontificated. “I’ll have it properly cleaned for you tomorrow.” Therese seemed pleased, her smile fittingly lopsided.  
  
“Should I worry?” she asked Carol. “The way you keep tossing your cookies, I mean.” The intent of her question was sincere despite the laid-back words she chose to convey it with.

“I’m fine,” Carol stated evasively. “It’s nothing.” She hated lying or at least omitting the truth, but she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about it right now. “Would you like a cup of tea or something?” she asked instead.

“I think we should go to bed,” Therese said, noticing too late how she had phrased it. “I mean it’s really late and you’re not feeling well and I think we could both use a good night’s sleep.” She drummed her fingers on the kitchen island, her brow slightly furrowed. “The guest room looks really nice.” Therese glanced clumsily at Carol. “Comfy.”

Carol wanted Therese to sleep in the same bed with her, and knowing it paralyzed her with fear. _If only it could be as innocent as it had been in Poughkeepsie_ , she fretted. She herself had ruined it by thinking of it excessively, making too much out of it, actively seeking and wanting something more out of her tender recollection when all she was supposed to do was to be content with Therese’s kindness.

Maybe if she hadn’t told Abby about Therese at all, maybe then it would have remained untarnished by her superfluous flights of fancy. Abby wouldn’t have known how to tease her, to put thoughts in her head, although blaming her was nothing short of blasphemous to their friendship. Carol had told her willingly and welcomed the gentle mockery to have something new and exciting to crowd her mind. If she hadn’t been so shaken up by Harge’s death, the austere funeral, the ill-timed baby and all those past-due memories, then maybe, _just maybe_ , she would have known what was right and what was wrong. _Then again, I wouldn’t have met Therese had I not been that way_ , occurred to her as well.

Clearing her throat, Therese attempted to smile at Carol. It was a brave effort but nothing more. “Good night, Carol,” she said softly and retreated to her designated area.

* * *

Regrets, second thoughts and downright confusion unsettling her, Carol didn’t think she could fall asleep but she did. The sleep felt thin, transparent, too conscious to lull her into believing she was resting at all, and the dream that came with it seemed to happen in her bedroom, right next to her. She opened her eyes and saw Harge even though he didn’t resemble him in the least. He looked like Bob, Therese’s dad, and he smiled at her. Despite the thinning hair and unruly beard, Carol still recognized him as Harge and asked him why he had come and why he looked different.

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” Harge replied in Bob’s voice. Taking Carol’s hand, he sat on the bed. “I just quit my job, that’s all,” Harge/Bob said. He leaned in closer, his brown eyes moist and hurt. “You should’ve told her about the baby.”

Carol wasn’t afraid, she was puzzled. “Her?” she asked incredulously.

Harge/Bob glanced at her disapprovingly. “You should’ve told me about the baby, I said.” He seemed impatient, distracted by something Carol wasn’t privileged to see. “I work with Nana nowadays,” he spoke after a moment’s silence. Closing his eyes briefly, he straightened his back and breathed out a long, hollow sigh. He looked old, older than his years, and the sad, tired rings around his eyes upset Carol, because he looked like her dying husband again. The distant tears broke out as mere murmurs at first, emanating from the pit of her stomach, growing stronger and stronger until she couldn’t keep them lodged in anymore. “What is dead must remain dead,” Harge said gently, but the tenderness of his voice only served to make Carol even more inconsolable.                

“Carol…” a voice called out to her. “Wake up… you’re having a bad dream.” Carol was still crying when she opened her eyes and saw Therese leaning over her. She looked as if she had just awakened, her dark hair in sweet disarray. Sobbing, Carol sat up and reached for a tissue on the nightstand. It took a while before her erratic breathing calmed down. “It’s early,” Therese said. “Close your eyes, I’ll stay here till you fall asleep.” She pulled the duvet over Carol and tucked her in, before taking a seat in the armchair next to the bed. “Sleep.”    

The next time Carol woke up, the sun was peeking through the blinds, casting a yellow square on Therese who was sleeping curled up in the chair. Noticing how tightly she was grabbing her sides, Carol got up and put a blanket over her bare limbs. Therese appeared fragile but the soft, warm weight seemed to relax her through the haze of her dream. “I like you very much.” Carol’s whisper was muffled, almost inaudible. 

* * *

“Morning.” Therese sat in the chair, her legs wide apart. The blanket was carefully folded on the armrest. “How are you feeling?” Her smile radiated the kind curiosity Carol associated with her already.

 _I must have dozed off_ , she thought. “Much better, thank you.” Carol did feel better, neither the dream nor the nausea no longer holding their grip on her.

“Why don’t you relax a bit longer while I go and see if there’s something I could find for that empty stomach of yours?” Therese got up, ready and raring to put her renewed energy to good use. Carol didn’t mind her kind offer, quite the contrary. She was happy to remain in bed.

She heard Therese taking out dishes from the cupboard, opening the refrigerator and humming a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. “Where’s the coffee?” Therese shouted out.

“It’s in the freezer,” Carol hollered back. “You know how to use the moka pot?” she asked but got no response. _Unnecessary question_ , she mused, hearing water being poured down from the faucet.

Soon she heard something else as well. A key was being turned in the lock and the door of her apartment opened. “Carol!” A cheerful voice greeted from the foyer.

 _Abby_. Carol stiffened remembering Therese’s tank top and boxer shorts. _Oh fuck._ Her mind racing, she tried to think of what to do but all she could come up with was an urgent wish to slide under the covers completely and to pretend she wasn’t there at all.

“Oh… hello…” Abby had made it to the kitchen, Carol deduced.

“Hey.” Therese’s voice was somewhat perkier.

“I’m Abby, Carol’s best friend, and you are..?” Carol contemplated briefly climbing out on the roof of her house.

“Therese,” said Therese calmly.

“Of course you are,” Abby smiled, already relishing the moment. “Did I come at a bad time? I did, didn’t I?” Miss Gerhard wasn’t going to leave a single stone unturned.

“No, it’s okay, we’re getting up,” Therese replied.

“You. Are. Getting. Up,” Abby repeated as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever heard. “Excellent.” Carol had no way of seeing what was happening in the other room but she was pretty sure her friend was anxious to see her. “And where is my friend _hiding_?” Abby continued, her question snaking all the way to Carol’s ears.       
  
“She’s still in bed,” Therese said matter-of-factly.

“She’s still in bed.” Abby’s parrot routine was getting fast on Carol’s nerves. She could _feel_ Abby grinning ecstatically through the wall.

“Goddammit, Gerhard!” Carol jumped up from the bed and put her robe on. She might as well face the music. “Put a sock in it,” she hissed at Abby, stepping in the living room. “It was too late for Therese to drive back to Poughkeepsie last night, so she stayed in the guest room.” _Which she hadn’t exactly done_ , Carol realized right away.

“Oh, I’m _sure_ ,” Abby commented, her eyes twinkling with unbridled amusement. “So _very_ kind of you, Carol.” She was biting her lip fervently.

“Yeah, I have to get my Jeep’s interior cleaned after yesterday so Carol suggested I get it done here,” Therese explained, seemingly oblivious to what was going on between two friends.

“What happened in the bu… in your car?” Abby questioned, her eyes darting wildly back and forth between Carol and Therese.   

“You don’t want to know,” Carol snapped at her, hoping it would put an end to the entire embarrassment.

“Try me!” Abby was quick to challenge. “I’m sure I’d be impressed…” she mumbled although it sounded more like she was giggling. “Oh God, I almost forgot Lou!” Abby realized, horrified. “He’s in the car and probably tearing the upholstery by now.”

Carol was eager to use the opportunity to change the subject. “Why didn’t you bring him in? What’s going on?” she asked, distressed.

“Gen got a last minute appointment for Mickey at the doctor’s,” Abby explained. “Oh, it’s nothing serious,” she continued, noticing Carol’s alarmed expression. “But I have to catch a flight to D.C. in less than three hours, and I was hoping you could look after Lou till Gen picks him up?” Abby pleaded. “It’ll be an hour-and-a-half, tops,” she promised.

“Of course,” Carol agreed. “Go get him, don’t keep him waiting.” Looking after Lou wasn’t how she had pictured this morning but she wasn’t going to turn her back on her friend.    

“Thanks so much,” Abby beamed. “And you even have help,” she said, addressing her demure words to Therese. “You look like _baby_ sitting material…”  Abby smiled adorably at her new acquaintance before rushing down to her car.

She returned five minutes later with a sullen little boy. Lou looked around, scanning the premises with his customary unnerving fashion. “Sweetie,” Abby cooed to him, “this is Therese, she and aunt Carol will keep you company till Mom and Mickey are back, okay?” She pushed the bewildered boy forward.

“Hello,” Therese greeted him, smiling warmly. “I’m Therese, nice to meet you.”

Lou stared at her suspiciously. “You’re a DYKE!” he shouted out unexpectedly. Abby blushed up to her ears and Carol wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Therese snorted involuntarily. “Lou, was it..?” When the boy nodded, she winked at him. “You’re a very perceptive young man but I’d rather you call me Therese, okay?” Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter.

“My mom’s envr… envir… envrnr…” Lou attempted, getting tangled up with his r’s.

“I’m an environmental lobbyist,” Abby helped out. “You’ll get there, Lou,” she encouraged her son. She looked at Therese apologetically. “It’s really nice to meet you, Therese. Carol’s told me and my wife so much about you.” Abby was being her most charming self.

Smiling, Therese glanced at Carol. “Nice to meet you too. I’m sure we’ll be fine with this fella,” she said, leaning down to talk to Lou. “How ‘bout some cereal, what’ll you say?” Lou’s eyes lit up and he followed her to the kitchen.  

“She’s lovely,” Abby whispered to Carol as she was about to leave. “We’re so going to talk about her and _this_ when I get back.” With _this_ she was obviously referring to the scene she had inadvertently stepped into, and as far as Carol knew, Abby never made empty promises.


	8. Stardust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter with an angst alert... Should you wish to listen to the title song of this one, here's the man with the velvet voice:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/4YPYFUATiul0877A1HhSlW

Not knowing what to say at first, Abby and Gen just stared at Carol. She herself focused on the verdant shoots of asparagus on her plate, covered by dollops of thick, light yellow Hollandaise. “Hell of a way to get her to take her clothes off,” Abby mumbled after a while. The news of Carol’s unfortunate bout of nausea wasn’t much of a topic for a dinner conversation but Abby and Gen had only themselves to blame for having pestered Carol for a definite description of her night with Therese.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Carol quipped, slicing her springtime splendor. “Again, nothing happened.” She was being very particular about it, and she needed her friends to know it without a shadow of a doubt.

“But you thought about it,” Abby said stubbornly. She kept a watchful eye on Carol’s reaction as she voiced her opinion.

Gen drew a deep breath only to let it out of her lungs right away. “That’s hardly the point here, honey,” she commented. “It sounds like you enjoyed yourself, and Therese seems like a lovely person.” Meaning every word, Gen smiled warmly at Carol.

“She _is_ lovely,” Abby agreed too eagerly. “And I think she finds Carol _very_ lovely as well. Thanks to Lou, we at least know for sure which team Therese ‘May-I-Have-This-Dance’ Belivet bats for.” Remembering the embarrassing incident at home, Carol felt an uncomfortable twinge in her stomach. Luckily the twins were blissfully asleep now and unable to gain new clues for potential future interrogations. Therese had been very cool about it, Carol thought. Lou’s abrupt remark hadn’t thrown her off in any way. “Not that it was in any way hazy to begin with,” Abby retorted.

So Therese preferred women, Carol acknowledged, but it didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted _her_. The moment she would start thinking someone identifying herself as a lesbian would automatically desire her, she would know that she had gone totally off her rocker, Carol scoffed at herself. Maybe she had had an inkling of it, Therese being so _intensely casual_. She had, after all, been aware of Abby’s sexual preference, probably before she herself had done so, Carol thought. The way Abby’s focus had always been on girls had gotten Carol thinking before Abby had ever acted on it.

They had been fifteen when Carol had finally gotten the nerve to address the issue. She remembered the afternoon as if it had happened only yesterday. “You’d like to kiss Emily, wouldn’t you?” Carol had blurted out of the blue after a math class. Once again she had caught Abby gazing dreamily at the willowy redhead two rows to the left from her. Abby’s face had immediately turned bright red and she hadn’t gotten a word out of her mouth. “It’s okay,” Carol had smiled at her encouragingly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a way Carol had been envious of Abby, because what she had confided in her had revealed an extraordinary side of her friend. It had had nothing to do with homosexuality or being different from others in that sense, it was the acknowledgement of desire she had found thought provoking. Abby knew what she wanted and whom she wanted it from, and the manner in which she had later sought to have it had proven nothing short of breathless. With breathlessness, Carol hadn’t necessarily implied to Abby’s numerous escapades with women although she very well could have. She recalled her friend getting ready for yet another date the first year at college, checking her look in the mirror and quoting poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, the famous Vassar graduate with a keen eye for the ladies:                       

>   _My candle burns at both ends;_
> 
> _It will not last the night;_
> 
> _But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—_
> 
> _It gives a lovely light!_

It was the awesome beauty of Abby’s relentless commitment to find life endlessly abundant with romantic possibilities that had taken Carol’s breath away, and Carol had lived vigorously through Abby’s experiences, both exhilarating and downright dreadful since she herself had had none. Abby had made good use of those first months of her academic life. Then she had met Gen, and, as she herself had so poignantly put it, “everything was over”.

“I do like Therese,” Carol admitted humbly. “I like who I am with her.” She hadn’t consciously thought of it before she said it out loud, but acknowledging it now made her realize how very true it was. Carol enjoyed Therese’s company, and it wasn’t an unimportant thing for her to recognize. She didn’t particularly care for getting to know new people, because she found most of them boring or otherwise intolerably dispassionate. Harge’s friends had been the worst, his know-it-all college buddies with their preppy wives. Carol did, however, like to hang out with Abby and Gen’s entourage comprised of educated and outspoken women who weren’t afraid to voice their disapproval if someone or something annoyed the hell out of them.

“They’re scary, all of them,” Harge had laughed after a dinner party at Abby and Gen’s. “I tried to talk to this lady and she nearly bit my head off.” Carol hadn’t said a thing in return. She had had a great time even if Jeanette, Abby’s colleague, was a bit of a hothead. Still, Harge had never griped about anything _his_ pals had happened to recklessly spout out. Two years into their marriage, Carol had chosen to attend her friends’ shindigs alone. Harge hadn’t minded it too much, and she hadn’t needed to fret over his potential discomfort any longer. Couples didn’t have to do everything together, Carol had reasoned.           

Listening to Carol, Abby had gotten a queer look in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before,” she spoke earnestly. “Nor have I ever heard you say you like yourself.” Startled, Gen glanced first at Abby, then at Carol. “It’s about damn time, darling,” Abby continued wistfully.

Carol fell silent for a moment, stunned by her friend’s surprisingly accurate assessment. “Do I need someone in my life to be able to like myself?” she questioned finally.

“Of course not,” Gen hastened to reply. “But sometimes we do find new sides to ourselves through other people.” Her brow slightly furrowed, she tried to make sense of what she wanted to convey. “Then again you’ve experienced a loss, and it haunts you even in your dreams,” she said candidly. “There is a void in you that demands to be filled one way or another. Please be aware of that,” Gen advised emphatically.

“For God’s sake, why do you have to analyze everything to shreds?” Abby asked Gen visibly peeved. “Why are you being such a spoilsport? Can’t she just have a bit of fun for a change? What’s so bad about that?” she wondered out loud.

Before Gen could answer, Carol interrupted both of them. “I don’t want to have _fun_ with her.” Now it was her friends’ turn to resort to silence. It took them a considerable time to bounce back from the effect Carol’s words had had on them.

“I see…” Abby took a long sip of her wine, her eyes never once leaving Carol. “What is it that you want then?” The one question Carol had seen coming splintered into several in her mind, each query sharper and more challenging than its counterpart. Slowly, the answer began to take shape, to crawl out of its lair of denial.

“I want to see her, to be with her,” Carol confessed simply. “And I want _her_ to see _me_.”

Abby and Gen exchanged puzzled looks. “You met her a week ago…” Gen pointed out apprehensively. Even if she had meant to say something further, she didn’t dare to finish her sentence.

“I know,” Carol said. “But I can’t help it. I enjoy her company, the way she is…” She remembered how Therese had comforted her after her dream, and a sudden conviction of its incomparable importance becalmed her like the warm duvet she had been tucked in with. “I find myself thinking of her more often than not.”

It was the unavoidable truth. Ever since the night in Poughkeepsie Therese had been a constant presence in her mind, an emblem of solace and resilience for her. At the same time, it bothered Carol to think of her in those terms since she was most likely leaning far too heavily on one person who did have a regular life she still knew very little about. The dust on the rug signifying the impossible enormity of another human being – had she just pushed it all aside and let her fantasy of reaching an impossible ideal run rampant again? Carol tried not to be swayed by any oversimplified notions, but the way she kept fluctuating told her she was still thrown off by dust. This time, however, it resembled the kind songwriters claim scatter down from the stars.

Abby stared at the tablecloth, trying to process what Carol had just said. “My God,” she mumbled, “it’s worse than I thought.” She snorted, both amused and utterly surprised.

“If you want her to really see you, you need to tell her about the baby.” Gen managed to articulate the one thing Carol didn’t want to mull over, the only aspect of her life she desperately needed to presently forget. Being reminded of it aggravated her, made her downright furious.

“Goddamn baby!” Carol spat out. “I don’t want to have anything to do with it. It’s a fucking nuisance I can very well live without!” Carol regretted her heated words the minute she had said them but she was too upset to recant them just yet.

“Carol…” Abby started cautiously. “I know you better than that.” She sighed long and hard. “You need time to get used to the idea, that’s all.“ She looked at Carol sternly. “Denying what’s irrevocably happening to you won’t get you anywhere, least of all with Therese.”

Abby’s reproving statement seemed to restore Carol’s sanity. “I’m sorry, Gen, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said apologetically. “You’re right, of course.” Still, Carol dreaded the reality she would have to face soon. She had already lied to Therese once but she couldn’t do it again.

* * *

The evening had taken a more serious turn than Carol had expected. Returning home, she was burdened by the inevitable, weighted down by her brooding over the unpredictable outcome of her eventual talk with Therese. Carol had a nagging feeling that it wouldn’t go well at all, that it would drive Therese away for some reason she wouldn’t be privy to. Carol might not even realize it at first, Therese being polite and understanding in her response. Even the prospect of her understanding it _too well_ was troubling for Carol. A part of her craved for an extreme reaction, a shock that would tell her that Therese had, up till that moment, cared for her in some particular way that just couldn’t fit a baby in its equation.

Therese had been marvelous with Lou that morning at her home. For such a suspicious kid as Lou was, he had really taken a shine to Therese. Carol wondered if she had ever seen him so relaxed with someone he was meeting for the first time. The two hours Lou had spent with them had flown by, and when the time had come for him to leave, he had seemed reluctant to part with his new friend.

An hour later Carol’s reluctance had surpassed Lou’s tenfold. Therese had to take the Jeep for the cleanup. They had stood in the foyer for what had seemed like a small eternity, Carol asking Therese about the observatory and wondering if the next week’s weather might turn out more favorable for an open night. “I was hoping we could meet sooner than that,” Therese had interrupted her self-conscious chatter.

How easily she had articulated what had been in Carol’s mind, what Carol had clumsily tried to get across by speculating on weather of all things. _I have so much to learn from you_ , she had mused in awe of Therese’s straightforwardness.

“Why don’t _you_ think of something?” Therese had suggested. “Take the initiative. I think I’ve done my share of driving for now.” She had indeed, Carol had mused right then and there. They had agreed on meeting the next weekend, on Saturday, and Carol had promised to pull her own weight for a change. She would come up with a plan to surprise Therese.

“You do realize Therese wants you to ask her out on a date?” Abby had pointed out amusedly. Noticing Carol’s bafflement she had let out a hearty laugh. “She’s good,” Abby had continued, ”I’ll give her that. Her ‘share of driving’… she’s taken you for a drive alright!”

 _Maybe_ , Carol acknowledged now that she had had time to think it through. _A date_. The thought didn’t terrify her or make her uncomfortable. _After all, isn’t it just a question of semantics?_ she questioned. _Certainly it’s nothing to fret over_.

* * *

Come Saturday, everything was arranged. They would meet at six, and from then on it would be up to Carol to treat Therese to an experience of a lifetime. Therese had tried to ask for clues as for how to dress for the occasion but Carol had been purposefully vague in her answers. “It doesn’t really matter what you’re wearing since I won’t be able to see you,” she had laughed at her transparent attempt to pry extra information.

“I trust we will still be at the same place though?” Therese had incredulously asked her. Her astonished curiosity had delighted Carol, and it had made her all the more excited about what was to come.

“Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you,” Carol had assured her warmly. “Just keep an open mind, that’s all I’m asking.” 

When Carol let Therese in, she couldn’t help but be slightly nervous. She hadn’t been feeling too well either, but that wasn’t the thing she now worried about. Maybe the grand idea she had for their evening wasn’t at all what Therese would enjoy? It was too late to come up with an alternative, Carol nevertheless understood.

“I brought you something,” Therese said while waiting for Carol who had gone to pick up her handbag from the bedroom. “When I saw it, I just happened to think of you.” Giving Carol a small black box, Therese seemed hesitant and almost embarrassed. “It’s not much,” she needed to add.

A small silver disc lay on a satin cushion that hid a simple chain underneath. The unassuming pendant had five tiny, round holes in it. The fifth one on the top was bigger than the others. “It’s the Lyra constellation,” Therese explained. “The same one we looked at through the telescope. The top hole represents the star Vega.”

Dumbstruck, Carol held the charm up in the air to admire its inventive simplicity. “Lyra’s name has its roots in the Greek mythology,” Therese elaborated. “It refers to the lyre of Orpheus whose music was so bewitching it was enough to allure even rocks and trees. When his wife, the nymph Eurydice, was killed, he went to the Underworld to reclaim her.” Therese sounded uneasy all of a sudden. “His music charmed Hades who promised him his wife on one condition – he wasn’t allowed to look back until they were safely outside.” Carol knew very well how the story ended but remained quiet all the same. “Orpheus couldn’t help himself, and he lost Eurydice for good. He spent the rest of his days wandering aimlessly through the land, strumming his lyre and forsaking all other women. When he died, the muses placed the lyre in the sky.” Therese traced the constellation in the air with her finger. “Vega is its handle.” She pushed her hands in her pockets.

“It’s lovely, thank you,” Carol said quietly. “Let me put it on,” she decided, and moved in front of the mirror. “Can you help me out?” she asked Therese. She had trouble fastening the lock in the chain. Therese complied, though timidly. When she was done, she glanced at Carol in the mirror. What Therese saw seemed to catch her off guard.

“Carol…” Therese started with difficulty. “I… I need to…” She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

“What is it?” Carol asked, gazing at her through the mirror. Seeing Therese so rattled wasn’t at all what she had expected, and it worried her.

Therese didn’t return her gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor instead. After what looked like another futile attempt at saying what was bothering her she gave up. “It’s nothing.” The manner in which Therese said it echoed a finality Carol wasn’t yet ready to question. _Maybe it’s for the best_ , she thought, _at least for now_. 

“We’ll take a cab,” Carol said when Therese seemed more like herself again. “If you’re up to going, that is?” she double-checked.

“Of course,” Therese replied immediately. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she assured Carol. The familiar, playful smile was creeping back on her face. She picked up her jacket and headed to the foyer. “Shall we?” she beamed at Carol, keeping the door open for her. Ten minutes later they were already sitting in a taxi, on their way to West Village.

“You’re taking me out to dinner?” Therese stated in disbelief when they were standing in front of a restaurant called _Sentido_. “I was kinda expecting something… _else_ … after you told me you won’t be seeing me,” she explained her confusion. “Not that I mind. God forbid, I love food,” she hastened to add.

“This _is_ something _else_ ,” Carol chuckled, opening the door. Stepping into a dim lobby, Carol signaled Therese to stay put. “We will be picked up shortly,” she promised. So far Therese seemed pleased, she was quick to notice, and it occurred to her that Therese would have indeed been happy with just an ordinary meal.

A man in his late thirties came to greet them. “Welcome,” he said, smiling. “Is this your first time?” He took turns looking at both of his guests.

“Yes,” Carol said, for it was her first time and she guessed it was Therese’s as well. _Sentido_ was one of a kind in New York City, and since its name hadn’t sparked any recognition in Therese to begin with, Carol thought it safe to assume they were both just as virginal to its charms.

“Splendid,” the man identifying himself as Bill said. “You will have to put these on before entering the dining room.” He handed them soft blindfolds. “You are not to remove them while inside the premises. Should you need at any time to go to the restroom, just raise your hand and you will be guided there.”

The look on Therese’s face was priceless. “So you weren’t kidding about it… we’re literally not going to see each other while dining,” she enthused.

“Nor are we going to see what we are about to eat,” Carol added. “It should be interesting.” She put her blindfold on and smiled at Therese’s direction. “Are you ready?” she asked, suddenly aware of her utter helplessness in a room turned pitch black.

“I am,” Therese said soon, adjusting to her blind reality. Bill was standing by, ready to usher them safely in.

“Put your hands on your friend’s shoulders,” he instructed Therese. “And you, Mrs. Aird, put yours on mine.” He nudged forward, making sure both women followed in his footsteps.

Therese’s hands lay softly on Carol’s shoulders as they moved along, Bill meandering between tables and chairs. Carol could hear other diners talking excitedly about what was to happen next, yet all she was really aware of were the palms resting calmly on both sides of her neck. When they reached their table, the fingers didn’t move away until Bill took Therese by the hand and escorted her to her seat right across from Carol.

As far as Carol could tell, the table was a small square for two. She felt the limited area in front of her and nearly knocked over her water glass. Bill was quick to pick it up before any damage could occur. “You will be instructed at all times, starting now,” he informed them. “The first course will be served in just few minutes, but I have taken the liberty of pouring you both a glass of champagne. You will find it, if you just put your right hand on the edge of the table and inch it slowly forward.” Soon Carol felt the base of a flute under her fingertips. She secured her grip of it and raised it carefully to her lips. “The breadbasket is at your two o’clock, Mrs. Aird, and for you, Miss, at your ten,” Bill pointed out politely. “Enjoy.”

Carol hadn’t actually thought about what it meant not to be able to see Therese. For one, they would have to talk more than what they had done so far. Remaining quiet wasn’t going to cut it, even if it had helped them through moments of serious confusion. To give herself time to think of a suitable opening line, Carol reached for the breadbasket – and ended up laying her hand on top of Therese’s. She froze momentarily, uncertain what to do. At the same time she was relieved to know that Therese couldn’t possibly see her alarm.

“I’m sorry,” Carol gasped apologetically and withdrew her hand. “Please, go ahead.” More diners were entering the premises and she was grateful for the temporary auditory distraction.

The first course arrived promptly. “For this you will have to use a spoon,” Bill explained. “Now that you’re deprived of your sight, take full advantage of what you have left, and try to figure out what it is that you are tasting,” he urged them. “After dinner you will be handed your menu in full.”

The bowl set before Carol was hot and fragrant, oozing distantly familiar aromas. “It smells divine,” Therese said. “But I can’t find my spoon.” She chuckled, searching for it in vain. “Am I going to have to drink it or what?” she wondered, amused.

Carol’s hand traveled cautiously across the tabletop, finding a spoon and then another one. “I think this is for dessert but you can have it,” she offered. “I’m holding it in my right hand and passing it over the table now, can you grab it?” She felt Therese’s hand graze the side of her fingers lightly before it fastened around the spoon.

“Okay, I got it… I think,” Therese replied apprehensively. Carol let go of the spoon, making sure Therese had it secured. “It’s spicy,” Therese said, tasting her first spoonful. “Maybe pumpkin soup, what do you think?”

Carol was struggling with hers, the spoon not finding its proper destination at first. Her movements were clumsy, and she needed to wipe away the evidence smeared on the corner of her mouth. “I seem to have lost my napkin,” she fretted. “No point in trying to pick it up from the floor.”

Therese came to her rescue. “Here, use mine,” she said softly. Carol fumbled for it in the dark, but to no avail. When she turned her head to the left, her chin bumped into Therese’s extended hand holding the cloth. The sudden contact surprising Therese as well, the napkin fell away. Her hand remained at its place, touching Carol’s face gently. “I’m sorry, I lost it,” she murmured apologetically.

“It’s okay,” Carol said, her heart picking up speed. Without thinking it further, she put her hand on top of Therese’s. Her thumb and forefinger traced the back of Therese’s hand, aware of the alert muscles just beneath the warm skin. Carol felt her cheek heat up, burn under the delicate touch. Therese maintained the caress, the simple act of smoothing the fine lines above the upper lip and sliding her fingertips back and forth over the jawline.

“Do you find everything satisfactory?” Bill was again standing next to them. They broke contact and resumed eating their soup.

“It’s delicious,” Carol managed to say. “It can get sloppy though,” she chuckled nervously. The soup tasted as if it had been infused with the sun itself, the core of its layered excellence radiating flavors of early summer. The heat of a single spoonful was intoxicating, uncompromised, Carol mused, delighted by the nubbly surprises filliping the otherwise velvety texture.

People around them conversed enthusiastically, their laughter clearing out the confusion the darkness had momentarily brought about. Yet it didn’t fray on Carol’s nerves at all, it only added to the excitement bubbling inside her. Still, when the evening’s featured singer took the stage, she was happy to listen to her exquisite rendition of an old evergreen.

>   _And now the purple dusk of twilight time  
>  steals across the meadows of my heart…_

Sweet remnants of another time and place flooded Carol’s mind. The way her best friends had indulged in a slow dance in the wee small hours after a party, gazing at each other with such love it had enthralled everyone present. “They make the perfect couple,” Jeanette had sighed, smiling at Abby and Gen wrapped up in their sweet privacy. Carol had known better than to believe in any perfection, but the moment had come close. At times she had wondered if the sparkle had gone out from her friends’ marriage, if it had been buried under the banalities of daily life. Still, it did scintillate on occasion and witnessing it gave Carol courage.

What she was experiencing now had the earmarks of perfection, Carol realized, the bittersweet poignancy of grazing what was forever elusive and short-lived at best. She was sitting in the dark but it had only served to make the contact with Therese more vibrant and alive.          

> _Sometimes I wonder why I spend_  
>  _the lonely night dreaming of a song_  
>  _the melody haunts my reverie_  
>  _and I am once again with you_  
> 

The food they were treated to was delicious, all of it perfectly cooked and suited for the occasion. Yet Carol couldn’t fully appreciate it as if the touch of Therese’s hand had muted all her other senses, removed their targets far away from her understanding. Carol’s fingers found the silver disk on her chest and she thought of Orpheus descending to the Underworld and ultimately relinquishing his will to live due to one misstep. Despite his effort, the dead had remained dead.    

> _Though I dream in vain_   
>  _in my heart it will remain_   
>  _my stardust melody_   
>  _the memory of love's refrain_
> 
>  

“I love this song,” Therese spoke softly, “though it is very sad – or maybe because of it.” She grew silent, but this time the silence indicated she was about to continue soon. “There’s something I must tell you,” she said, “yet I can’t, not here. I need to see you when I do.” Therese sounded very serious.  

“I must talk to you, too,” Carol admitted, knowing she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. Telling Therese the unsettling fact of her life hardly constituted a moment of perfection, she agonized.

“You don’t own me any explanations,” Therese said gravely. “You are grieving. I know that.” Had it not been dark, Carol wouldn’t have heard her sigh. “It makes people do strange things.”

Her words struck Carol as belittling, and she wanted to rebel against them. “Please don’t say that. You are not… a strange thing to me,” she replied defensively.

“I didn’t dare to open my eyes,” Therese blurted out as if what she had originally intended to say had suddenly become redundant and needed a replacement, _any_ replacement. “I couldn’t.”

Carol wasn’t following her train of thought at all. “What?” she asked, frightened by the words that made no sense to her.

“I like you too.” Therese’s voice tapered down to a whisper. “Very much.”     

The darkness enshrouded them, ate them alive, the spoken truth coiling too fast around the table they were leaning over. Carol wanted to see Therese, and the need to do so was unbearable. In her mind’s eye she saw herself back in Poughkeepsie, back in Therese’s bed, but this time she turned around; this time she wound her fingers in Therese’s hair and kissed her with abandon, not caring what the morning would bring or the following days or weeks. This time her hands found the hot skin under Therese’s T-shirt, the curves of her body that she longed to taste in the dark of her room. Where it all rushed in from, Carol didn’t know, but the need was urgent, unrelenting, enough to derail her from the path she had carefully prepared for herself.  

When the dessert was finished and the dinner over, they were escorted back to the lobby to have their blindfolds removed. The lights stung Carol’s eyes as they stepped outside to hail a cab. She wanted to take Therese’s hand, to hold it all the way back to her home but she didn’t. Carol couldn’t until she had told Therese what was going on, what she was facing sooner than she was willing to admit. A faint hope had started to flicker inside her, its embers catching blue flame because of what Therese had said. She had heard Carol’s nightly confession and felt the need to reciprocate. _It had to mean something,_ Carol believed.

Back at home she was still spirited, trusting. _Now it’s the time_ , Carol encouraged herself. _All or nothing_. “Therese,” she started, drawing a deep, decisive breath. “I have to tell you this, and believe me when I say…”

“Please, let me go first!” Therese interrupted hastily. Only now Carol noticed how wracked with worry and _guilt_ her eyes were. She quieted down and let Therese speak. “I’m so sorry…” Therese mumbled incoherently. It took another while before she could bring herself to admit what was bothering her. “I’m involved with someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will get better, I promise. <3


	9. Fragile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, folks... ready to jump back in time? And now you will have to freeze frame that moment of Therese's confession for a while, since it's her turn now.

**PART II: THERESE**

_Poughkeepsie - the morning of Harge’s funeral_

\---

“Come back, Teddy Bear...” Therese ignored the plea. The laces on her hiking boots had frayed in several places, making them look unkempt and raggedy. Soon they would tire of their steady strain and snap in two. “You don’t have to go just yet, do you?” the voice in the bed asked. “I could make you waffles. I have blueberries,” it went on hopefully.

Aware of the sudden movement behind her, Therese stiffened. When nothing happened, she continued tying her right boot.  It didn’t look pretty, but it would have to do, she decided.

“Say something, baby.” The woman behind Therese had raised herself on her elbows. “We could stay here for a while longer and maybe go out to eat,” she said longingly. “Get some tacos…”

Therese stood up and straightened the creases on her cargo pants. “You don’t like tacos, Jane,” she said dryly. She turned to glance at the young sandy-haired woman who was only partly covered by a wrinkled sheet. Jane frowned, but the corners of her mouth curved up to a smile.

Therese knew that smile very well. She knew it as well as this room, its plain white walls and the cotton tapestry with its glow-in-the-dark constellations that still hung above the bed. Jane had gotten it for her for Christmas two years ago. The space in front of the window was vacant, missing her desk. The dark grooves on the wooden floor marked the place where her swivel chair had been.  

Therese could have closed her eyes and listed all the things on the window sills – the squiggly bonsai tree, the retro chess clock with embellished numbers, the piles of pocket books gathering dust and fading in the sun – all the items in the cupboards and on the shelves of the small pantry, the glass vase on the kitchen table that looked like an elephant trumpeting a fanfare with its trunk. Therese loved that silly vase, and she wished she had taken it with her when she had moved to the commune a year ago. She had left with only the bare necessities, not wanting to waste another minute on arguing about what had happened and why.

Therese knew the bed at the center of the room, how the springs of its mattress had squeaked under their combined weight in the beginning. She knew this place and the woman whom she had shared it with like the back of her hand, for she had lived in this apartment for three years. It had been her home. _She_ had been her home.

Jane got up, not minding her nakedness at all. After all, it wasn’t anything Therese hadn’t seen for at least a thousand times. “I’ve missed not liking them,” Jane said, her voice distinctly lower than only a minute ago. No longer coy, it had acquired an air of sincerity as if instinctively knowing when Therese had had enough. “Some other time then.” She walked over to Therese and put her hands on her shoulders. “Do what you have to do,” Jane said, smiling confidently. “I will wait for you.”

Thrown off by Jane’s sudden amiability, Therese nodded and turned to leave. “Later,” she mumbled, easing the clunky door open lest it got stuck on the threshold again.

She walked past the barren yard, guessing she was being watched from the window. Maybe Jane expected her to turn around and look her way, to blow her a kiss like she had used to do, though she doubted it. They hadn’t reached that point in their ‘coming back together again’, as Jane had termed it. As far as Therese was concerned they were far away from anything even resembling that, their encounters mainly sexual and emotionally confusing.

Yet she kept returning for more, for ‘another mind fuck’ as Carly called it. Therese had strictly forbidden her to ever mention anything about it to Bob and Rose. Her mother had endured her share of Therese’s utter desolation a year ago, and she certainly didn’t need to suffer again because of Therese’s sudden indecision. Carly didn’t understand her behavior any better nor did she hide her discontent.

How could Therese explain to her what she was doing when she didn’t even know it herself? _We go back a long way_ , Therese had attempted in vain. It had to count as something. And how could she condemn the person she had loved so madly by just one transgression, no matter how much it had hurt? People deserve second chances, Bob had taught them. Didn’t she owe Jane one more stab at getting things right? Therese had asked her stepsister.

“How many stabs can your heart take, Teddy?” Carly had asked her instead. “If Jack ever cheated on me, I’d have his ass flying out of the door in a heartbeat.” Carly meant it, and not even having kids had changed her opinion about it.

Driving her Jeep out of the parking lot, Therese breathed a sigh of relief. She had bought the car soon after her breakup with the money her father’s sister had left her. Her spinster aunt had had no children of her own, and Therese was among the few surviving members of the Belivet family.

Aunt Agatha hadn’t been wealthy by any modern standards, but her frugal lifestyle had secured Therese a nifty nest egg. The way Therese had been spending it didn’t, however, bode well for her future. The car, the camera, the telescopes, and the astrophotography excursions, all of them had amounted to a small fortune already. Therese couldn’t care less about it though. If she was supposed to squander it all away, she would. _It's only money_.  

The fall-out with Jane had screwed up Therese’s studies, and she was still feeling its ripple effects. Her academic record was suffering, and she had been reminded of it several times over the year. Despite all the warnings, Therese had found it hard to attend her classes, partly because of the fear of running into Jane, partly because she had found something more interesting – the celestial sky through the lens of her camera.

Therese had always been interested in astronomy, but over the past year she had truly immersed herself in her new hobby. Looking up had prevented her from falling down, she had mused, enamored by her endless source of fascination. _Maybe the expanding universe will fade my troubles into obscurity_ , she had hoped.

Life had become a never ending space odyssey for Therese, the earth as humanity’s mothership coursing through the galaxy at dizzying speed. She gazed at the constellation known as Leo, and recalled what she had read about the universe echoing its own birth with cosmic background radiation. Understanding this ‘glow of heat’ had helped astronomers to calculate the earth’s speed and direction.

Even if everything in her life was at a standstill, the earthling Therese was still moving forward, surging towards Leo at a speed of 242 miles per second. Tens of trillions of miles away, the majestic lion would always loom far in the distance, but it was the voyage that counted, she preferred to think. The most abstract and unfathomable to the human mind was the most beautiful thing in the universe for her, and she wanted to learn as much of it as she possibly could.

* * *

Therese returned to her room in the commune, closing the door behind her. It had taken her time to get used to the idea of sharing an apartment with others, but after the breakup she had appreciated their company even though she hadn’t really confided in any of them. Sam, her closest roommate, knew the basics, having heard Therese sobbing one night after she had just moved in.

“Every new day will be a little better, I promise,” Sam had assured her. “It’s like growing up when you’re just a kid or learning to play an instrument. You wish you’d make progress and you think you’re stalling, yet you’re not,” she had said kindly. “Then one day all those microscopic changes come together and you open your eyes to the change that is you.” It had certainly been hard for Therese to believe, heartbroken and devastated.

Therese wanted to sleep but lying down reminded her too much of the night before. She picked up the clothes cluttering the floor by the wing chair – a _Smiths_ T-shirt Dannie had given her, a pair of black skinny jeans pulled inside out, and a gray loose-knit sweater. The bookcase was bulging with disorderly volumes she should have gotten rid of ages ago, Therese thought begrudgingly. Instead of doing anything about it, she sank into the lush chair, exhausted by her spurt of activity.

Her bed was unmade even though she hadn’t slept in it in four nights. Therese had ended up at Jane’s far too often these past few weeks, thinking each time that it was an exception that wouldn’t repeat itself. She would start her day deciding it wouldn’t happen anymore, or at least not until she had made up her mind about it. When the restlessness had set in, she had nevertheless found herself there again.

Nowadays Jane was always home, always waiting, and as long as Therese didn’t have to look her in the eyes in bed, everything went well enough. It was an understatement, and Therese was all too aware of it. To use sex to get even with someone was both despicable and addictive, Carly had pointed out. “It will eventually warp how you feel about it altogether,” she had warned Therese.

“Whatever.” She could take care of herself, Therese had assured her. “I’m not your helpless little sister anymore." Sighing, Carly had just shaken her head and resumed preparing a bridal bouquet for the next day’s pick-up. Jane had once suggested they should tie the knot, make it official. “Are you proposing to me?” Therese had chuckled in response.

“Maybe,” Jane had smiled back, but nothing more had come out of it. A year later, Therese had thanked her lucky stars for having dodged the issue at the time. She wondered if it would have felt different to find a wife in bed with someone else instead of just a girlfriend.    

Therese picked up a book she had on the floor by the bed and laid down to browse it. Her mother had given it to her. It had belonged to Therese’s biological father Joseph who had often quoted its passages. It felt appropriate to read it there, surrounded by the things and the furniture he had once owned.

 _The Collected Poems by C.P. Cavafy_. One poem in particular had several markings on it, and Therese knew it almost by heart.

> _As you set out for Ithaka_   
>  _hope the voyage is a long one,_   
>  _full of adventure, full of discovery._   
>  _Laistrygonians and Cyclops,_   
>  _angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:_
> 
> _you’ll never find things like that on your way_   
>  _as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,_   
>  _as long as a rare excitement_   
>  _stirs your spirit and your body._
> 
> _Laistrygonians and Cyclops,_   
>  _wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them_   
>  _unless you bring them along inside your soul,_   
>  _unless your soul sets them up in front of you…_

Soon after, the lines blurred together and the book drooped against her chest. Therese fell asleep, and the rest it bequeathed her was dreamless and easy. 

When she woke up, the room was cloaked in early evening shadows. For a moment Therese feared she had overslept, but she had still time to make it to the observatory as she had promised. There would be no showing tonight, but the maintenance work couldn’t wait. Therese would go through the telescopic equipment, scanning for imperfections that had to be dealt with before the beginning of next week. It was a pleasurable duty for her, for it allowed her to spend time alone in the observatory she very much enjoyed. Time permitting, she might even take a peek at the skies on her own.

The quiet serenity of the observatory set apart from the other campus buildings appealed to her as always. Therese had turned on as few lights as possible, for she liked the murky calm that seemed to loiter around. After finishing her tasks, she lingered in the office longer than she had intended. Truth be told, she didn’t want to leave even if the weather wasn’t ideal for stargazing. Therese dreaded what she would do next, where she would once again end up. She was losing the battle, and the first sign of her loss was always the same. _What’s the harm in it?_ Therese started asking herself. _What’s so wrong about wanting to love someone even if nothing’s the same as it once was?_ The last question was the real surefire killer. _Isn’t this a chance for me to grow as a person?_                      

It was right then and there when she heard someone banging on the door. No one was expected here at this hour, Therese knew. First she thought about ignoring it, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Are you looking for someone?” she asked the retreating figure. The blonde woman turned around slowly and looked at her surprised. The features of her face, the well-defined, full lips and the clear blue eyes, were striking yet fragile, Therese thought. She looked lost, confused, and when she told Therese she had come for a show, Therese didn’t believe her. She seemed harmless though.

 _Poor basket case_ , Therese mused, locking the door again. Something about the stranger nevertheless bothered her, and without thinking about it further, she picked up her jacket and ran after her. _The least I can do is to give her a lift_ , she thought, catching up with the woman. Fifteen minutes later she had offered her a place to crash for the night.

 _What the hell did I just do?_ ran through Therese’s mind, as they were exiting the campus area. The willing enthusiasm she had just displayed by inviting a perfect stranger to spend the night in her place was downright baffling. Maybe Therese had wanted someone to decide her evening for her, or maybe she had just felt sorry for the woman. And she was very beautiful. _Dannie would die of laughter if he heard about this_.

 _Carol_. Therese liked the name. It sounded regal yet unpretentious, and she was prone to associate the same qualities to the woman herself. Carol seemed taciturn, another trait that Therese appreciated. Her answers were laconic but not impolite.  

When they got to the apartment, Therese wasn’t happy with what she saw. _Great_ , she fumed silently, _another Vassar dickhead revival_. She noticed Richard glaring at her when she notified her roommates of her guest. Others were thankfully oblivious to their arrival. Carol seemed disoriented, almost hesitant, but she followed Therese to her room all the same.  

Therese cleared up what was needed in Sam’s room, getting it ready for Carol. When she stepped into the kitchen to make tea, Richard poked his nose in. “Who’s the blonde babe?” he asked sharply. “Does Jane know?”

Therese poured the boiling water into two mugs and sighed. “Well, why don’t you call her and tell her all about it,” she egged him on. “She’s your sister after all.”

Knotting his brow, Richard exhaled vocally. “That’s not what I mean. I just want you guys to work things out, you know that.” His tone was kinder, conciliatory. 

“I know you mean well, but it’s none of your business,” Therese said matter-of-factly. Without another word, she took the mugs and disappeared back to her room. If Richard was under the impression that she was going to have sex with a stranger tonight, she wouldn’t lift a finger to change that notion.

Even if Therese would have fancied a one night stand, her mind might have changed drastically during the next hour she shared with Carol over tea. Carol wasn’t much of a conversationalist, Therese discovered, amused by her blank stare and drooping head. Her fingers were bravely draped around the tea mug, but Therese was sure she would drop it any minute.

Removing the cooled drink from her tired grip, Therese took pity on Carol and helped her to undress in Sam’s room. Watching Carol take off her shirt and unhook her bra, Therese folded Carol’s jeans on the floor. She should have averted her eyes from Carol’s bare torso but she didn’t. For a blink of an eye, the light from the window played on the soft swell of Carol’s breast. Therese smiled and cast her eyes down, should her guest now decide to look at her. The night and the sleep clinging so heavily to her, Carol embodied an elfin beauty Therese found suddenly captivating. It was almost as if Carol wasn’t in this world anymore but in-between two realms, both charmingly ephemeral, she thought.      

Therese lay awake in the dark, forgetting the trials of her mind. She listened to the steady breathing coming from the next room, and she wondered what kind of a deed she had done. She had barely fallen asleep when Carol nearly kicked the door in and rushed to the bathroom. After what seemed like a long time to be waiting silently, Therese heard her come back.

Though she saw the tears and heard the words, Therese still didn’t understand what it was that possessed her to make room for Carol in her bed. Therese only knew she needed to give as much as she could, to be more and better and gentler than she had been for a long time. When Carol succumbed to sleep again, her body sought to align with Therese’s softly, insistently. Her T-shirt had risen up, revealing the constellations of freckles on Carol’s back. Her arm circling Carol’s waist, Therese pulled her even closer, all the way against her hips, her chest and her lips. She inhaled, intoxicated, the scent of a stranger who was alive despite her dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read Cavafy's beautiful, wise poem in its entirety here:
> 
> http://www.cavafy.com/poems/content.asp?cat=1&id=74


	10. Good Vibrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get you in the right mood for this chapter, here's a link to the Good Vibrations :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/2oF7FZHIJbzjeEXZ3D0Ku4

Therese was awake, but she didn’t want to leave the bed just yet. The sun had come up hours ago, turning its light on in her quiet room. Carol was sound asleep, resting on her right side. Her fair hair feathered on the pillow, she looked serene in her remote repose.  
  
The duvet had fallen partly on the floor, revealing Carol’s hips, buttocks, the patch of skin between the T-shirt and the dark purple briefs she was wearing. Her long legs, the left one bent softly over the other underneath, were sleek and sultry, Therese thought. She wanted to touch them, to glide her palm along the sunlit skin, but what had been possible in the dead of night could no longer happen. Therese was afraid of waking her up, of seeing Carol suddenly embarrassed by her proximity.  
  
At one point of the night she had held Carol so tightly in her arms, Therese had been sure her wildly beating heart would inevitably awaken her. Though pressed against Carol’s skin, Therese’s hands had remained chaste. Anything else, although it had crossed her mind, would have been sheer madness. _She is a straight woman who has just lost her husband_ , Therese reminded herself. Nevertheless, in the light of this new day, a part of her cursed it as an opportunity wasted.  
  
_Think of something else_. Therese sighed long and hard. Covering her eyes with her fingertips, she inhaled sharply and turned her gaze inward. She heard it right away, the refrain, the roundabout.  
  
**_I'm pickin' up good vibrations / She's giving me excitations_**  
 ** _I'm pickin' up good vibrations / She's giving me excitations / Oom bop, bop, excitations_**  
 ** _Good good good good vibrations / Oom bop, bop_**  
 ** _She's giving me excitations / Oom bop, bop, excitations..._**  
  
Recognizing the tune, Therese grinned. _Great, an ear worm_. It wasn’t a bad one, she had to admit, in fact, it was among the best. She had been thirteen and struggling with an acoustic guitar she hadn’t quite gotten a hang of. Bob had breezed in her room and dragged her down to the garage, to his ‘man cave’ as Rose still called it.  
  
While there, Bob had given her a second-hand Ibanez electric bass and urged her to try it out. “You want me to play bass?” Therese had protested. She might not have had the knack for a classical guitar but she had sure as hell not been ready to become the butt of a tired rock 'n' roll joke.  
  
“Will you please shut up and listen to this?” Bob had laughed at her teenage outrage. He had put on a record, and motioned for Therese to take a seat next to him on the worn-out velvet couch.  
  
**_I, I love the colorful clothes she wears_**  
 ** _And the way the sunlight plays upon her hair_**  
 ** _I hear the sound of a gentle word_**  
 ** _On the wind that lifts her perfume through the air_**  
  
“Can you hear the bouncy bass, Teddy?” Bob had asked over the heightened volume. “That’s Carol Kaye dancing on top of the beat.” Therese had listened to the quirky backup with growing interest. The bass line had almost had a mind of its own, running off with a complexity that stuck in the listener’s brain without his even realizing it. “The bass is nothing to be frowned upon,” Bob had stated. “Brian Wilson was a genius, but so was Carol Kaye. Her hard-picking crowns the song, gives it the depth it needs.”  
  
Having listened to _Good Vibrations_ several times, Therese hadn’t eventually been able to hear anything except the hypnotic pattern Kaye’s bass had jumped around with. “Kaye got her first guitar when she was your age,” Bob had hinted. “Her pro career started a year later,” he had added, winking at Therese. “Give it a go.”  
  
_From one Carol to another_ , Therese mused, smiling at the woman lying next to her.  
  
**_Close my eyes_**  
 ** _She's somehow closer now_**  
 ** _Softly smile, I know she must be kind_**  
 ** _When I look in her eyes_**  
 ** _She goes with me to a blossom world_**  
  
Therese had fallen in love with her Ibanez, and it had served her well. She had performed with Bob’s band until she had moved in with Jane four years ago. Their first meeting had taken place during a break of _Papa and The Boys’_ concert. Drinking a beer, Therese had hung around the bar, when an attractive young woman had come over to talk to her. “So you’re one of the _Boys_?” she had smiled, quirking her eyebrow quizzically.  
  
“I guess I am,” Therese had said, paying keen interest to the way the woman had weighed her words.  
  
“Too bad,” the woman had replied, amused. “I’m not into… _boys_.” It was all Therese had needed to know about whom Jane Semco was really into. For the rest of the gig, Jane had stood in the front row watching only Therese. And Therese had looked back, terribly flattered by such rapt attention.  
  
Carol stirred in her sleep, showing signs of a weakening slumber. Therese hesitated whether she should stay in bed and wait for Carol to open her eyes or not. A part of her did, but that part was still too close to desire to call the shots. Reluctantly she climbed over the foot of the bed and put on her cargo pants. She imagined what it would feel like to leave a woman she truly loved and wanted in bed instead of rushing out in shame and disgust.  
  
Therese fetched Carol’s clothes from Sam’s room. Carol would be grateful to find them close, she mused. Noticing a brown leather handbag on the floor, she sat down on Sam’s bed and picked it up. Not caring if what she was doing was wrong, Therese eased the buckle open without a sound. The bag was mostly empty, its compartments hollow and gathering dust.  
  
A light blue ballpoint pen with a text _New Hope Natural_ and a New York phone number printed on it was attached to a black datebook. Therese removed the band that kept it intact, and flicked through the book’s thin pages. The beginning of the year was filled with entries. The word ‘Hospice’ appeared almost daily up till a month ago, which Therese deduced must have had something to do with Carol’s husband. Another permanent fixture was ‘New Hope’ recurring each month until it vanished altogether.  
  
Carol’s neat and steady handwriting had started to falter in late February, Therese noted, but what was most troubling for her to see was what came after yesterday. _Nothing_. There were no markings whatsoever for the following weeks or months, she realized. The blindingly blank pages disturbed Therese. The last entry was the funeral, after that no sign of life.  
  
Therese closed the book and returned it to its place, hoping Carol wouldn’t notice her having intruded upon her privacy. She was saddened by what she had seen, and it pained her to think that Carol’s ‘new hope’, whatever it was, had withered away with the impending death of her husband.  
  
Truth be told, Therese hadn’t opened the handbag to poke her nose into Carol’s business. She had only wanted to know her whole name, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass her by. The wallet was stuffed with credit cards, bills and crumpled receipts, but she did find what she was looking for – the driver’s license belonging to one Carol Aird. For once a passport photo did justice to its mark, Therese thought, looking at the faintly smiling blonde in black and white. She memorized Carol’s date of birth, noticing that Carol was five years older than her. An obscure sound from her room interrupted her pensive stare, and she promptly put the wallet back inside the bag.  
  
Carol was still asleep but Therese knew it was only a matter of time now. Soon her mysterious guest would become aware of where she was and whom she was there with. An ache resembling fear turned Therese’s stomach, for she was afraid of the outcome of what was surely a case of two ships passing in the night. She was ready to accept that, but she hoped she could still keep her fleeting fantasy, her solace of a beautiful night and a pleasant morning. Even if it was hers and hers alone, it was of frail making, Therese understood. She wasn’t at all certain if she could take it, were Carol to ruin it for her one way or another.  
  
All night and all morning Therese had listened to the base line she knew still existed in her, the complex yet crystal clear motif buried under all the spiteful solos and demoralizing disharmony. She didn’t want to find Carol embarrassed or all too eager to flee. Therese wanted her to ‘get it’, to see their chance encounter for what it was – a thing of beauty. _A tall order_ , she admitted.  
  
The cell phone in Carol’s bag started to vibrate, prompting Therese to leave it on the floor by the wing chair. _She's one hell of a sleeper_ , Therese grinned, gazing at Carol who remained blissfully unaware of the world calling her. When she was about to return Carol’s towel back to the bathroom, a delightfully wicked thought reared its impish head. Therese picked up Carol’s bra and paired it off with the fluffy towel. _Some things shouldn’t be too easy to find_.  


* * *

  
Therese was hardly used to people gushing over her photographs. Of course there were her parents who showed interest and encouraged her in all of her endeavors, but it wasn’t the same as having someone unrelated to her talk so enthusiastically about her work like Carol had just done.  
  
Carol had woken up just in time for breakfast and she had even seemed hungry despite her nightly nausea. Heartache can do that, Therese mused, remembering how she herself had thrown up due to the wretched state she had been in after her disillusionment with Jane.  
  
Therese sat on the stitched poppy field, willing Carol to sit next to her by sheer force of telepathy. The blonde woman chose to linger by the bookcase instead. There was something so charmingly self-conscious about Carol’s way of not really looking at anything on the shelves, it couldn’t help but amuse Therese.  
  
When Carol stepped outside to make a phone call, Therese thought about checking her cell as well but decided against it. She didn’t have to look at it to know who had called her and how many messages currently flooded her voice mail. She didn’t want to think about it at all, not now, not while enjoying this island in time, her _Brigadoon_.  
  
Being of Scottish origin, Bob never tired of talking about the enchanted village in the Highlands. According to the legend, it became real and visible to the outer world only for one day every hundred years. As a little girl, Therese had found the myth truly beguiling. “If you love someone and happen upon Brigadoon on this special day, you may remain there, but only if you love each other enough,” he had said and kissed her goodnight. In her childlike dreams the McElroy men had danced in kilts in Brigadoon, flinging their hairy calves high in the air.  
  
The sweet memory still flickering in her mind, Therese saw Carol return to the room. Leaning her head against the bed, Therese let her arms fall to her sides. Her eyes closed but her heart open, she hoped for just one thing. It was granted. Carol sat next to her and surrendered to the sun.  
  
_But it’s never just one thing, is it?_ Therese mused wistfully, placing her hand on top of Carol’s.  
  
_**I don't know where but she sends me there**_  
 _ **(Ah my, my, what a sensation)**_  
 _ **(Ah my, my, what elations)**_  
 _ **(Ah my, my, what)**_

_**Gotta keep those lovin' good vibrations** _   
_**A happenin' with her** _   
_**Gotta keep those lovin' good vibrations** _   
_**A happenin' with her** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and in case you missed it, listen to the isolated Carol Kaye baseline played by the awesome Caitlin Gray:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlJG84wbJSQ


	11. Good and Worthy

Deep in thought, Therese climbed up the stairs to the overpass. The train was still visible, its steely partitions glinting in the bright sunlight. Soon it would worm its way out of the station area and disappear in the distance. When she got into her car, she closed her eyes and stayed that way for a long time. Any other day she would have enjoyed the impeccable blue sky, relishing in its promise of a clear night for her and her telescope. This time, however, the gift of the cloudless heaven seemed dull and depressing.

What had transpired that morning and afternoon had had such a profound effect on Therese, it had seemed to rob the luster away from the things she normally took pleasure in. To experience the hours she had shared so intensely with Carol had rendered her listless and unwilling to enjoy what she now viewed as a mere substitute for something better.

Resigning to her fate, Therese started the engine.  _ This, too, will pass _ , she mused.  _ A serendipitous meeting with a stranger shouldn’t be blown out of proportion.  _ She had errands to run, books to read, and photos to download, she reminded herself. So she had slipped her business card into Carol’s jacket pocket when they had been about to leave for the station, big deal. After all, she did owe Carol the same luxury she had taken a liberty with: knowing the full name of the person you had spent a night with.

When Therese got back home, she was displeased to hear two people talking in the kitchen. She had been counting on having the apartment all to herself while her roommates were on campus. What she discovered was even more unsettling.

“Hey, Teddy.” Jane turned around to smile at her. Embarrassed, Richard cast his eyes down and said nothing. “What have you been up to?” Her question wasn’t suspicious, only cautiously curious.

“Nothing.” Therese shuddered, thinking of what might have happened, had Jane come by earlier the day. It wasn’t like her at all to pop in uninvited. Not even her brother’s living in the same commune with Therese had gotten Jane to overstep the boundaries Therese’s moving out had set up.

Jane knew she had made a mistake and she had genuinely regretted it. “It didn’t mean anything,” she had told Therese repeatedly. “It was an awful, hurtful thing to do, and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t,” she had cried.

“Why did you do it then, if it didn’t mean anything?” Therese had questioned, once she had regained her faculties to ask anything at all.

Jane had remained quiet for a second as if pondering whether telling Therese the truth was really the right path to choose. “I guess on some level I wanted to shake things up, to rattle us… rattle myself to understand what was going on between us.” Jane had said. “But it wasn’t premeditated, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

They had fallen into a rut, Therese had agreed silently, and despite all her resentment, Jane’s abrupt sincerity had impressed her. She wasn’t a bad person, which made everything harder. How easy it would have been to dismiss Jane as someone who had wronged her, been nothing but intolerably cruel, but somehow, somewhere deep down, Therese knew she wasn’t all that blameless either. She may not have cheated on Jane, but she had been emotionally unavailable, drifting out of her reach. Why, Therese didn’t know. It had sneaked up on her without her noticing it, and it had driven Jane to commit a desperate act to get Therese to really understand the root of it.

It was easy to see, just how inconsequential Jane’s misstep was in itself. Therese knew Jane hadn’t cared about the other woman. She hadn’t played any part in Jane’s failed attempt at clarity. And maybe Therese could have even overlooked Jane’s deed in any other circumstances, but to stumble upon it in her own home had been much too much to swallow.

“Richard asked me to come,” Jane explained sheepishly. “I wouldn’t have otherwise.” She seemed distressed by Therese’s apparent unease at seeing her there.

Therese glanced at Richard who dodged her open scrutiny. He was never one to mind his own business, Therese mused, disappointed.

“Anyway, it’s nice to see you though you’re probably busy,” Jane continued, smiling uncertainly. “Oh, I brought you the new  _ Astronomy _ magazine,” she said, pulling it out from her canvas bag. “I noticed there’s stuff on that solar eclipse in August.” She handed the glossy issue to Therese. “I remember you talking about it.” Therese was surprised Jane recalled something she had said almost three years ago. “You wanted us to go to see it…” The way she mentioned Therese’s former plan sounded like a humble question that demanded no immediate response.

“Thanks.” Confused, Therese flicked through the magazine. Even though the first total solar eclipse in 38 years in the U.S. was a huge deal, she had momentarily forgotten all about it. She had made plans to experience it to the fullest, to travel to the most beneficial spot on the continent to be awed by its rare totality. Therese yearned to witness the true celestial spectacle, the diamond ring, the sun’s glorious corona, the strange colors in the sky and the stars suddenly bright in the daytime.

“I’m gonna go now,” Jane decided. “If you’re not busy later on, I could cook for us.” Her words were seemingly light, hiding a fervent wish.

“Not tonight,” Therese said. “I’ve been thinking of going to see my folks.” It had been a while since she had last seen her family. “Maybe shoot some photos if the weather’s good.”

Sadness shadowed Jane’s face briefly. “Say hi to Bob and Rose for me…” she started cautiously, “…if you think it’s appropriate.” Jane knew how close Therese was with her parents and siblings, and what must have transpired after their separation. The expression on Therese’s face told Jane she wasn’t going to breathe a word about her lighthearted greeting to her family. “Have fun,” she wished, touching Therese’s arm lightly as she passed her by on her way to the door.

* * *

During the nearly two-hour-drive from Poughkeepsie to Scotch Plains, Therese had her cell phone on the passenger seat next to her. Glancing at it every so often, she flicked through radio channels from classic rock to R&B, pop and disco. The more contemporary hits got Therese to change the frequency more often than not, but when she stumbled upon a song she had thought of as the greatest irritant ever, she surprised herself by turning the volume way up. The temptation to belt out the giddy refrain along with the vocalist was just too obvious:

> **_hey I just met you / and this is crazy / but here's my number / so call me maybe_ **

Gesturing behind the steering wheel as jauntily as humanly possible, she let herself loose in the privacy of her beloved Jeep. The capricious melody thumping through the speakers, drawing silly parallels to the fix she imagined she was in, Therese sang her heart out. It felt good to goof around, to blow off steam, even if it made her foot a bit too heavy on the gas pedal.

Despite her riotous rendition, her phone remained stubbornly mute. This  _ is _ crazy, Therese thought, gradually calming down. When the song flowed into oblivion, she was full of questions,  _ things _ , she wished she had asked Carol, but now it was too late. How long had she been married? Did she have kids and if she did, how old were they? Was someone helping her through this trying time? 

Then again Carol hadn’t notified anyone about her whereabouts last night. She had appeared detached, almost uprooted somehow, though it most likely had had to do with the grief of her husband’s passing. Still none of it had hidden the aspects of Carol’s character Therese had found most appealing – the warmth, the engaging curiosity, even the temper when Carol had been playfully appalled by what she had considered as Therese’s mistake in guessing her age.

Enraptured, Therese imagined the depths of Carol she would never know, the forces of her nature that would inevitably triumph once the heartache and the dolor had subsided. It was so easy for her to attach meanings to a complete stranger, to make bold assumptions that had nothing to do with anything tangible or real, Therese admitted. _This is fantasy_ , she sighed, _mere escapism – a means to distance myself from the gruesome facts of my sorry life_. Nevertheless, the phone on the seat kept haunting her.

“Hey, sweetie,” Rose said, hugging her daughter warmly thirty minutes later. “Are you hungry? We already had supper because Bob had to go help the boys with the flooring. I can fix you a plate though.” Therese sat down at the dinner table. She hadn’t eaten a thing since her breakfast with Carol. She was sorry to miss Bob and her brothers who usually hung around the house despite the apartment they now shared. She had been looking forward to their loud conversation and lame jokes to make her forget what she needed to put aside for now.

“Is everything alright?” Her mother asked, bringing over what was left of the pasta she had prepared. Standing next to her daughter, she laid her hand on Therese’s shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” Therese lied. “I’m just tired.” She whirled her fork lazily around the spaghetti soaked in a sauce made with tomatoes, olives, capers and garlic.

“You’ve been terribly withdrawn lately,” Rose said pensively. “And you haven’t been around that much either.” Therese tasted the salty, tangy dish just to avoid answering right away. Rose let out a sorrowful sigh. “What’s going on, Therese?” She knew when her daughter was being purposefully evasive.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Therese muttered. “It’s nothing for you to be worried about. It’s…  _ silly _ .” Silly was hardly the word for what was happening between her and Jane, but it was all she could come up with now.

“I’m not going to pester you into answering me,” Rose spoke quietly. “But I hope you know that I would never judge you. Even if I’d think you’d be better off  _ not _ doing what you’re doing.” She sat next to Therese and pressed her hand on her arm. For a quick second, Therese remembered how she had held Carol’s hand for an entire hour in serene silence, how the simple connection had been enough to calm her fraught mind.

“Can I ask you something, Mom?” Therese mumbled, changing the subject. Rose nodded, taking a sip of her Earl Grey. “I have this friend who met a woman whose husband has just died.” She glanced at her mother apprehensively. Rose was paying attention.

“Is it a she or a he? This  _ friend _ of yours?” Rose asked, looking intently at Therese.

“Oh, it’s a she,” Therese confirmed hastily. “Anyway, she thought they had a really nice time and now she’s wondering if she should get in touch with her again.” Needing a sudden distraction, Therese stuck a huge lump of pasta in her mouth.

“Did something happen between them?” Rose asked somewhat amused.

“Like what exactly?” Therese needed to specify, slightly flustered.

“Well, were they attracted to each other?” Rose elaborated, adding

more milk to her strong, black tea.

“Umm… she’s not sure,” Therese murmured, her mouth full.

“I’d have to say that I’d be very careful if I were… your friend,” Rose said. “While this woman may be a wonderful person and all, she’s going through a rough time. I know it from experience.” She was quiet for a while, recalling her own past. “When your father died so unexpectedly, I nearly went insane. You were the only thing that kept me grounded.” Listening to her mother, Therese felt suddenly forlorn although what Rose was saying was hardly a surprise for her.

“I did meet Bob quite early on, and I clung to him like a person who’s drowning.” Rose took Therese’s hand firmly into hers. “He saw that in me, and he knew that if he were to pursue me right away, he’d lose me in the end.” Her eyes moist, she gazed affectionately at her daughter. “I loved your father so much, and I have never stopped, but eventually I was able to make room for another love, for Bob.” Her eyes brightened, and seeing it warmed Therese’s heart. “If you have loved once, you will have the ability to do so again, no matter how torn apart your life may have become.” Rose addressed her words to Therese, and Therese knew it. “This woman you mentioned, she will do so as well, but not until she has joined the land of the living again.”

* * *

At night, Therese lay in her old bed in her old room. It hadn’t changed much since she had lived there, she thought, only the painted, white plaster walls once decked with posters were now barren. She had kept just one memento from her teenage years: a framed black and white photo of young Joan Jett wearing a SEX PISTOLS T-shirt, her right hand grabbing her crotch. A sly wink of an eye from an early rock idol, it had hung above Therese’s bed for as long as she could remember.

Poughkeepsie seemed far away in the suburban quiet, Manhattan too. Therese closed her eyes and slid into sleep like a child she once was.

* * *

Therese woke up to a hive of activity known as Bob. “Get up, you drowsy drone,” he grinned, pulling away the blanket his daughter was hiding under. “Yard work, now!” Yawning, Therese dragged her feet on the floor and stared ahead with unseeing eyes. Bob had returned home after Therese had already gone to bed, but the relatively short amount of rest hadn’t in any way cramped his style.

Therese spent the next two and a half hours outside, helping out with various chores and shooting the breeze with Bob. It didn’t occur to her to check her phone all that time, but when she popped into the kitchen for a drink, she remembered it again. Having told Jane about her visit, Therese didn’t expect to find any calls at all, but for her own peace of mind she had to run upstairs to make sure it was indeed so.

_ Three missed calls _ . All of them from the same anonymous number. Therese sat on the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She would have to look it up before jumping into any hasty conclusions, she told herself, but her body couldn’t quite agree. Two minutes later her excitement reached a new high.

“Gotta go!” she shouted out to her parents’ astonishment. “I’ll call you later!” Having barely waved her goodbyes to Bob and Rose, Therese revved the Jeep’s engine the minute it hit the main road. She had thought about calling Carol back, but the need to see her in person proved too strong. If Carol wanted to thank her for her hospitality, she could very well do it face-to-face, she thought. And if that was all there was to it, she could still make this a memorable evening. The skies were clear, and she had her telescope with her.

When Therese got to the address she had memorized from Carol’s driver’s license, she was disheartened to find no one home. For the lack of anything better to do, she sat on the hood of her car and took out her phone. She dialed the number she now had and heard a faint buzzing sound close by. Therese turned around and a radiant smile spread on her face.

* * *

Carol’s place was stylish and fancy, but it lacked a certain lived-in feel to it, Therese thought. She wondered if the sadness she observed in the beautiful objects the living room had in abundance was truly real or just a reflection of her knowledge of Carol’s situation. Still, most of them seemed to have been bought for their aesthetic quality rather than for anything else. What was the purpose of a sextant if it belonged to someone who saw it merely as a decorative element? Then again Therese knew that most people viewed items of foregone eras that way, as deliberate pieces of interior design emptied of their original meaning.

Driving down, Therese had been undeniably nervous, but now that she was at Carol’s, she felt calm again. She felt confident enough to even flirt and tease a little. A part of Therese took a reverent step back and gawked in disbelief at just how cool and composed the rest of her managed to be. 

It wasn’t anything unusual, the sudden duality she was experiencing. Most of the time it worked against her, reproaching her of stupidity and clumsiness, but now it seemed to side with what was good and worthy in her. Words and ideas came easily to her as if she had been formulating them in her mind for weeks.  _ A win-win situation _ , Therese thought, remembering her telescope in the Jeep.  _ A chance to show her what she missed last night _ .

The only time Therese felt uncomfortable occurred when her phone rang just before they were about to leave for Inwood Hill Park.  _ Jane _ . Seeing her face and name appear on the screen affected her like an anchor wrapped around her ankles. It wanted to pull her down, all the way to the bottom of her inner sea.

A text message signaled its arrival with a brief flash on the muted cell while Carol was gathering her things for their outing.

> _ Come by tonight? x J _

Therese glanced at Carol’s bedroom before typing her reply.

> _ I don’t think so. Still out of town. _

Another message arrived right away.

> _ You can come as late as you like. _

Therese hesitated, not knowing what to do. She didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she know what to say in return. She slid the phone in her pocket.

* * *

The park was quiet with only a handful of other amateur astronomers present, Therese noticed. Not willing to engage in conversation, she opted to greet them from afar. Both Carol and she were also quiet, as if the sudden change in their landscape had somehow transformed them as well. Therese enjoyed the silence, for what she had in mind focused on wonder, not on words that too readily attempted to articulate the inarticulate. Therese enjoyed finding her companion so enthralled by what she witnessed, and it inspired Therese to see what was already familiar to her with fresh eyes.

The legends Therese had read and the myths she had heard about flowed effortlessly out of the nooks and crannies of her mind. She had never considered herself a good storyteller, but with Carol it seemed easy to be one.

In the car, on their way back home, Therese became aware of Carol’s shifting mood. She seemed nervous, jittery, and Therese wished to understand it. She was surprised when Carol asked her to stay for the night – surprised and all too willing to accept it. The words of her mother echoing in the back of her mind, Therese declined her offer.

She did have a class in the morning, but nothing would have kept her from skipping it, had she known it to be the right thing to do. Still, she wanted to do something, to express what rumbled inside her in some other way than just “I had a great time”. The urge to push over an invisible limit gaining momentum, she crossed her restless arms over her chest and took a step back instead.

* * *

Back in Poughkeepsie, Therese stopped at a red light. She felt foolish having to wait for her turn in the middle of the night with no other people in sight. Her permission finally granted, she drove along without noticing where she ended up at first. She had parked the Jeep in front of her former home. The light was still on in Jane’s apartment. She was waiting for Therese.

The needy and impatient wanted to get out of the car and walk in. The good and worthy turned the key in the ignition.  _ Not tonight _ , Therese thought, glancing at the lit window. Besides, she had promised to send Carol a message from home.  _ Her _ home.

 


	12. Fast or Fair?

The next morning Therese woke up to the sound of her cell phone. When she picked it up, the call was abruptly disconnected. _Jane_ , she noticed drowsily. Before Therese had any time to wonder what had prompted Jane to do so, a text message announced its arrival.

>   _Look out the window xxx_

Slowly, Therese got up and peeked out. Jane was standing on the other side of the street, hiding something behind her back. Instead of opening the window, she texted Jane.    

>   _Never pegged you for an early bird_

It was only half past seven, and Therese had counted on an extra hour of sleep.

>   _I’m full of surprises_

Therese lingered by the window, uncertain what she was supposed to do. Deciding, she sent her reply.

>   _I’ll come down. Give me ten_

She took a quick shower and threw her clothes on. Waiting patiently, Jane sat on a bench. Her smile widened, seeing Therese cross the street and come to her. “Hey,” she said demurely. “I know you have a class in two hours but I wanted to give you a proper start for the day.” Jane handed Therese the item she had been careful not to show her before now. A single pale pink rose in a loose cellophane wrapping.

Therese was taken aback by her offering. “This is a first,” she mumbled, the corners of her mouth curving up to a disbelieving smile. It had been she who had courted Jane with flowers during their time together.

Jane’s smile was apologetic. “I promise it won’t be the last,” she spoke quietly. “And if it’s okay, I’d like to treat you to something else as well this morning… at my place.” Seeing the blunt surprise on Therese’s face, Jane hastened to continue. “I don’t mean sex!”she blurted out clumsily. “I don’t think we should have sex.” Therese’s features softened out of sheer amusement. “Not that I wouldn’t want to… I do want sex – with you, I mean,” Jane stammered. “But I’d rather we didn’t, for now. Not until we’ve figured this out.” She seemed out of breath, desperate to get her meaning across.

“Alright,” Therese said, willing to humor her. “I’m certainly intrigued,” she went on, tearing the rose out of its wrapping and sticking it playfully between her teeth. “Let’s go,” she mumbled between clenched teeth. It was very much like Therese to resort to silly antics to take the edge off of a potentially confusing situation.          

Driving to the address she had chosen not to visit the night before, Therese glanced at Jane sitting on the seat Carol had occupied less than ten hours ago. She wasn’t used to having Jane in the Jeep, though they had taken several road trips before. Their times on the road together amalgamated, merged into an unsettling mixture of everything that was both ecstatically happy and stupendously maddening.

The hours they had spent looking for a place to spend the night, to act on the urgent need they had unabashedly verbalized already miles and miles before the car came to a halt. The stretches of highways they had sped along, sulking and suffering in silence. It was all too real for Therese, but a part of her reminded her that it had indeed been real, not just some figment of her imagination.

Carol hadn’t replied to the late night’s message, and it bothered Therese. She had sent Carol the text she had requested, expecting to receive a reply, even if just a short one. Most likely Carol had been asleep, not noticing the message in the first place, Therese mused. Maybe she still hadn’t. Remembering her own excitement yesterday, and the way she had gushed over their surprise encounter became a source of anxiety for Therese now. What had happened to her sensible contemplation of Carol’s inner turmoil and how it was likely to affect all her actions? What had given her the bright idea to expect an answer for something so innocuous like a brief text sent in the dead of night? She had declined Carol’s kind offer to spend the night at her place, and somehow she had managed to read too much into it. _Not everyone has a one-track mind like you do_ , Therese scolded herself, _a_ _nd certainly not a straight woman trying to get over the loss of her spouse_.      

Jane opened the door of her apartment. She seemed shy suddenly. “What is… this?” Therese gasped, seeing what waited inside. The floor was dotted with numbered post-its with small objects in their immediate vicinity. A chalk line was drawn from one to another leading all the way to the other end of the living room.

“I had this ready last night,” Jane elaborated. “And I thought you should see it, to hear what I have to say.” The yellow sticker with #1 on it lay next to a green pick.

Recognizing the gem-toned plectrum immediately, Therese kneeled down to pick it up. “This is mine…” she muttered. “I thought I’d lost it.”

Jane smiled sheepishly. “I know. I swiped it,” she said meekly. “It was the first time I met you, after your gig…” she explained. “We were sitting at that table, talking, and you kept playing with it, turning it between your fingers.” Therese looked at Jane, astonished to hear her confession. “I thought you were the cutest thing ever, and I was so smitten right away,” Jane continued. “I shouldn’t have taken it, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Before Therese could utter a word, Jane whisked her away to the spot marked #2, a plain cardboard coaster with a brewery logo on it. It did have some indistinct scribbles on its flipside. Therese stared at them, nonplussed. “You probably don’t remember this,” Jane said, smiling sweetly. “You tried to demonstrate how we’re always at the center of the universe, no matter where we are…” Therese furrowed her brow, recalling it faintly. “Our first real date,” Jane clarified, “and I didn’t understand a damn thing about what you were saying, but it didn’t matter because you already made me feel like the center of _your_ universe.”

Jane became quiet all of a sudden, but it didn’t last long enough to make Therese uncomfortable. What Jane said next did. “You were so brilliant in making me feel that way,” she said, her voice wavering. “So uncompromising in your attention, always willing to go the extra mile to impress me,” Jane continued. “I never needed that because you had me from the start. Even though I didn’t have _you_ at the time…” She hesitated a second. “Had I known you were exhausting everything you had for me right off the bat, I’d have begged for you to slow down, to try less and just _be_ with me, but you weren’t being honest…” Suddenly it was too difficult for Jane to go on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do this like _this_ ,” she mumbled her apology.

“Jane…” Therese started, shaken by what she had just heard. She felt a pang of guilt in her gut, brought on by Jane’s words that had hit a nerve. She had always been good with beginnings; she had thriven at them. But whenever faced with the question of longevity, of something being potentially perennial, the interest she had harbored at first had inevitably faded.

Therese knew what Jane was alluding to with her remarks about honesty. She hadn’t been free herself when she had met Jane, the reality of it having dawned on Jane only later when they had already gotten involved. Therese was ashamed of the way she had acted towards her previous lover, even if it had been just a prolonged ‘romp in the hay’.

“No, let me finish now that I started,” Jane interrupted, pulling herself together. “You were right to leave me after what I did to you,” she said emphatically, “but you’d already been looking for a way out before that. Maybe not consciously but still…” Jane picked up item #3. “Here, I bet you’ve wondered where you left this.” Therese did know the carmine red cotton scarf very well. “I’m officially pathetic,” Jane muttered. “I took it and I slept with it the entire year we were apart.”

Therese examined the scarf as if seeing it for the first time. “You’ve been busy… swiping my stuff,” she started, attempting to lighten up the mood. When she saw tears in Jane’s eyes, her puerile spirit withered away. “Jane…” Therese said again, her voice laced with regret, and she couldn’t help but take Jane in her arms and comfort her.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking or what’s really going on in your life,” Jane sobbed against her shoulder, “and I don’t want anyone else, least of all Richard, to tell me about it.” Therese felt Jane’s hot tears dribble over her jawline and down her neck. “But please, promise me you think about us. That’s all I’m asking – a fair chance.”

Holding the woman she had loved and still wasn’t indifferent about, Therese drew a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly. Even if what they had started again only a month ago wasn’t going to last, it was not yet quite finished either.                                   

* * *

The morning with Jane had rattled Therese. For the first time in a long while her feelings for Jane had amounted to more than mere anxiety and willful masochism. She had let their relationship be rekindled out of sick curiosity and pent-up sexual frustration, neither of which ever led to anything positive. Therese hadn’t taken into account that despite what had happened between them, Jane was still someone who deserved to be treated with respect; someone who was flawed just like she was.

“It’s like beating a dead horse,” Carly had argued with Therese, having heard about the current situation. “It’s never going to get back on its feet again, and you know it.” Therese felt guilty about not having levelled with Carly about the part she herself had played in the separation. She had confided in her sister only partially, telling about Jane’s betrayal yet conveniently leaving out her share, her lack of involvement in their joint effort to make the relationship work. Most likely it wouldn’t have mattered to Carly all that much, her being very black-and-white about certain things. Infidelity was a trigger big enough for Carly to make her ignore any attenuating circumstances.

Their relationship wasn’t going to get back on its feet, Therese realized. She hadn’t given the thought the time of day, thinking she could just breeze through what was just a sexual distraction for her. _A distraction alright_ , Therese scoffed. It had distracted her from what she had once held beautiful and true and spiraled her into a frightening abyss of unresolved heartache.

After her classes she had called her mother and apologized for her hasty departure the day before. Rose had been very understanding, asking how her _friend_ was doing. Therese’s answers had been curt, but deep inside she had wanted to tell her mother everything, and not just about Carol but about Jane as well, of the way she herself had been barely treading water all past year. She would have to talk to Jane soon, to own up to her share of their failure as a couple.

Therese thought of Carol, and as much as she tried to separate Carol’s importance from her own need for a serious conversation with Jane, she couldn’t make the distinction. Everything got hopelessly muddled in her head, the steps ahead she desired to take with Carol – the standstill and eventual closure she needed with Jane.

When Therese went to bed that night, Carol’s silence perturbed her once more. _I am imagining things_ , Therese mused, depressed. _I’ve been so out of touch with reality, my gaydar needs recalibrating_.    

* * *

Wednesday morning didn’t look promising. The observatory would undoubtedly be closed for the public. _Second week in a row_ , Therese mused. The dark clouds moved across the sky, conglomerating into heavy clusters of rain. Stalking the innocent bystanders, they seemed to be only waiting for the most inopportune time to pour down on them. Just when it looked like that Therese’s view of the world couldn’t ever get better again, her phone beeped a message.

>   _What time’s the show tonight? Thought I’d catch it. - C_

The simple ‘C’ in the end made Therese’s stomach flip. She dialed Carol’s number right away. _Calm the fuck down_ , she told herself, waiting for the call to be picked up.

Less than ten minutes later she had a date with Carol for the same evening. _Not a date exactly_ , Therese reminded herself. _Don’t get carried away_ . She changed her clothes hastily only to rethink her outfit again – lose the cargo pants, put on the skinny jeans, maybe a white shirt and a vest… _who the fuck do you think you are – Ellen Degeneres?_ She chose a white t-shirt, a black leather jacket and matching lace-up boots instead. Therese couldn’t sit on her hands for a minute longer, so she decided to head on the road at once. She could always drop by at Carly’s shop if she had extra time to kill.

* * *

“How’s my favorite little sister doin’?” Carly shouted out as Therese entered her quaint little flower boutique in Chelsea.

“Your _only_ sister is doin’ damn fine,” Therese retorted. She was in a great mood, which Carly picked up on right away.

“Look at you,” she grinned her approval. “All dressed up… what’s cooking, biker babe? Hot date tonight?” The backroom of Carly’s shop looked as if a veritable flower bomb had exploded there only a short while ago.

“Nah, just meeting a friend,” Therese mumbled, blushing involuntarily.

“Yeah, right!” Carly laughed, pleasantly surprised. “C’mon, spill! Your tired, domesticated sister needs to live through you.”

Therese drew an amused breath, raising her eyebrows for a sign of surrender. “I met this woman, and she spent a night at my place, and…” She was interrupted instantaneously.

“Teddy! I know you’re fast but I didn’t realize you’re _that_   fast,” Carly chuckled, rolling her eyes at her sister.

“It wasn’t like that,” Therese hastened to correct. “We didn’t… fuck, we just literally slept together.” Her defensiveness got Carly even more curious.

“Would you have wanted to?” Carly asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s beside the point,” Therese replied, dodging her blatant query. “She just lost her husband, and even though we kinda clicked, I’m sure there’s nothing more to it.”

Carly put down her scissors and looked at Therese from head to toe. “Yet here you are, looking like a million bucks…” Carly stated, winking at her. “Lie to yourself all you want, but don’t insult my intelligence, darling.” She glanced at Therese one more time. “Although you’re not convincing yourself either, are you?”

Embarrassed, Therese shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know…” She might as well come clean about it, she thought.

“This is good,” Carly encouraged, nodding her head. “I’m happy you’ve pulled your head out of your ass with that deceitful bitch…” she continued, stopping only because of the look on Therese’s face. “Come on! You’ve got to be kidding! Is it still going on?” she questioned, visibly peeved.

“I’m going to deal with it… soon,” Therese explained. “It’s not as simple as you think…” Again, she wasn’t allowed to finish.

“It _is_ simple,” Carly kept on going, her face suddenly very serious. “You tell Jane ‘it’s over’, and it’s – _tada!_ – over. For good.” She scoffed, but chose not to articulate her frustration any further. Instead she focused her attention on the cut flowers scattered everywhere. “I fucking despise people who can’t make up their minds whether they’re getting married or not,” she complained. “I get paid either way, but I hate to throw all these away just because I can’t really use them now…”

The abundance of flowers was startling, the iridescent mounds of blooms shooting out from the prickly bed of green stems. Sighing, Carly picked up a wide box and started shoving the greenery in. “I guess I’ll get these to Mom,” she said after a while. “Unless…” A light bulb went off in her head. “Unless you take these to your lady friend,” Carly completed her thought to Therese. Her smile was both devious and conspiratorial.

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea,” Therese hesitated, her face warming up once more.

“Are you crazy? It’s a brilliant idea!” Carly exclaimed. “You’re not just giving her flowers, you’re giving her a _shitload_ of flowers!” she giggled. Carly’s bedside manner as a florist left sometimes a lot to be desired, Therese thought. “And if she seems uncomfortable or something, just downplay it, tell her I was going to throw them out anyway.”

Therese found sense in what Carly was saying. She could easily explain them away, were Carol to be disturbed by such floral excess. “Well, okay,” she relented. “I suppose I could do that.”  Little did she know that it was she herself who needed to make an excuse for them only a half an hour later.

* * *

Therese was indescribably happy to be back at Carol’s. At times she caught herself babbling enthusiastically, volunteering information and answering Carol’s questions about her parents and siblings. She feared she was making a fool of herself, talking too much and showing off her skill with cut flowers of all things, but every time she caught Carol’s eyes, they were brimming with warm curiosity. Even when Therese was mortified by her careless quip about lifespan, Carol didn’t seem to mind it at all. In fact, she welcomed everything Therese said, which made Therese even bolder than what she had been feeling up till that moment.

Therese enjoyed herself in Carol’s company, feeling both relaxed and energized at the same time. She wanted to show Carol what she was made of, where she came from, and who were the people that had been so vital to her. It was a mad idea, Therese mused, an utterly, inexplicably crazy whim, but the more she thought about it, the less restrained she was with what she would have thought proper in any other circumstances. Maybe it was the flowers, their heady perfume shortening serious distances into giddy leaps of faith, which prompted Therese to take Carol to New Jersey, to her childhood home.

Therese didn’t know a thing about Carol’s background, of where she came from, but it didn’t matter to her. The suburban house wasn’t much to look at, but what waited inside was worth the trip, Therese trusted. This was an entry Carol didn’t have on her date book, she thought, hoping she could fill those blank pages with joys and wonders Carol hadn’t even imagined.  

The way Bob was fussing over Carol made Therese smile so that her cheeks hurt, but even more than that she was elated to see how at ease Carol managed to remain under his excessive yet good-humored scrutiny. Even the prospect of having to go to listen to Bob and the boys play covers at some random roadside bar didn’t seem to bother Carol. Therese looked at her, catching her eyes every now and then. Carol’s smile was amused, but not in a belittling way. No, she appeared pleasantly surprised, happily whisked away from any sorrow that must have gnawed on her for months now, Therese mused.

Only her brothers were teasing her about Carol as if she was a girlfriend Therese had just brought in to meet the family. Mother was quick to avert their guest’s attention elsewhere, Therese noted. Rose took Carol to the kitchen, and even though Therese was dying to know what they were talking about, she was grateful for her mother’s sharp interference.

“What a great gal!” Bob extolled, hooking Therese in a tight embrace with his meaty right arm. “You, Theodore, have inherited my great taste in women.” He wouldn’t let go off Therese who was trying to catch enough breath to answer him.

“Keep it down, goddammit!” she hissed at Bob, although her eyes were sparkling of laughter. “We’re not… you know,” she acquiesced to say.

“I can see why you left so abruptly the other day,” Bob said, ignoring Therese’s objections. “Had I come across a woman like that, I would have abandoned everything the minute she’d called me,” he went on. “Come to think of it… I did,” he grinned at Therese.

“Please, Bob, no funny business during the gig,” Therese appealed to him, growing serious. Knowing all too well the heights of his occasional exuberance, she had to rein him in. The last thing Therese needed was her fragile relationship with Carol to be made a spectacle of any kind between songs.

“Really, Theodore? Whatever do you mean?” Bob winked at her. Shaking her head, Therese couldn’t help but fear the worst.

Afterwards Therese didn’t remember too much about the dinner, not of the food eaten any way. She knew she was shoving something in her mouth, going through the motions. To have Carol sit so close by that she nearly pressed against Therese’ side rendered her helpless to understand what was happening around the table.

She caught a whiff of Carol’s fragrance, and it sent tremors along her spine, swooshing through her nerve ends and shooting out of her fingertips as she tried to hold on to her knife and fork. She heard the clang of her spoon as it hit the wooden floor board, but it seemed to emanate from far away, from the bottom of some infinite chasm where her hopes and dreams lay still like thick, cumbersome coins in a wishing well. When she dropped down to pick it up, her arm tingled of sudden contact with Carol’s leg.  

* * *

The _Crossroads_ was the same as always, a sympathetic if somewhat weather-beaten dive for talents the rest of America didn’t care to hear about. Therese had played there several times, mostly to half-empty houses, which hadn’t reduced her pleasure of performing one bit. She wondered what Carol might have thought of her, seeing her on stage. She was glad she wasn’t there now, Therese thought, sipping the beer Carol had brought her.  

When the band started to perform, it got claustrophobic inside the stuffy showroom. Therese noticed what she thought was a frightened look in Carol’s eyes, and she knew instinctively what her role should be. Therese was all too familiar with the drunken patrons of this place, how reckless and brash they could get with the beer they kept inadvertently spilling around. She would shield Carol, Therese decided, keep her out of harm’s way.  

 _Papa and The Boys_ opened with _Stay the Night_. Therese recognized it at once, but even though she knew the lyrics by heart, she wasn’t at all prepared to see the effect the song’s explicit message had on Carol.

>   _I want you to know one thing is certain_
> 
> _I truly love your company_

Carol seemed troubled, dodging Therese’s eyes even though Therese tried desperately to signal her that everything was good.

>   _I won't take no if that's you answer_
> 
> _At least, that's my philosophy_

Casting her eyes down, Therese suppressed a smile. _Well, those lines are hardly helpful._ But she wasn’t going to let Carol suffer for any reason, she decided. Therese attempted to make small talk over the roar of the music and the wallowing mass, but her efforts fell short. Carol simply couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Then Bob went ahead and did the one thing she had particularly asked him not to do. _For fuck’s sake_ , Therese cursed, closing her eyes in embarrassment. She was sure Carol would ignore her, keep her eyes glued to the stage. Therese was fine with it. It would save her the trouble of humiliating herself.

But Carol did turn to look at her, to see what Therese was going to do about what Bob had just said. Therese was stunned to see that Carol _wanted_ her to ask her. She was almost sure of it. Despite the look that resembled an invitation, the confidence Therese had exuded so many times in Carol’s presence whizzed out of her like a deflating balloon.  Still, Therese couldn’t escape her challenge. Not anymore.

>   _And I want you here with me / From tonight until the end of time_

Holding her breath, Therese pressed Carol firmly against herself on the dance floor to savor every touch, every move in sync. The way Carol’s hand traversed her back slowly, scavenging it for a caress, was enough to electrify, to bring back from the dead, she thought. Their cheeks burning against each other, the shiny atoms of life unmined only a heartbeat ago became formidable, ubiquitous. _A single moment, a dense point in what was once void, triggers an entire universe_ , Therese mused. _This is how everything began, and how everything still begins_.  

>   _You should know / Everywhere I go_
> 
> _Always on my mind_
> 
> _In my heart_
> 
> _In my soul_

Therese knew what she longed for before the song ended. They said goodbye to Rose who looked at her daughter but didn’t utter a word. She didn’t have to, but she hoped for the best.


	13. The Good Night

The incessant rain pounded on the windshield, its splotchy fists exploding in contact with the glass. The angry clouds spotted earlier in Poughkeepsie were taking it out on her, Therese mused, as she steered her Jeep along the Garden City Parkway and I-78. _Bring it on_ , she smiled silently, _see if I care_. She loved her car for the safety it provided, but tonight she loved it even more because Carol was with her.

Therese felt alive, miraculously so, and all the hopes she had thought too heavy buoyed up like bubbles gushing up from the bottom of a spring. Still, she kept it all inside, for it would have been impossible to start without knowing where to finish, to say a word without letting out all the words. And the words were incomplete and flawed anyway, endlessly lagging behind their true intentions.

The silence teemed with newly required memories, so fresh and original they were just glimpses of light on the dance floor. The soft lock of hair, the smooth curve of Carol’s waist, the charged proximity – all of them were present separately and at once, zigzagging in Therese’s brain like random hits in a pinball.  

Right now Therese needed nothing, for she had already had everything. It had lasted only a moment, but the quickening she had known was unrivaled by anything she had ever come across before. She might know other times and find different bliss, but never that again, Therese ruminated. But it wasn’t an unhappy or even a sad thought, for what more could anyone wish than to have her turn after having waited for it? It was no longer up to the stars to align her way – had she ever believed in such things to begin with – but for her to make the most of what lay ahead.        

Carol’s eyes swept over her from time to time, lifting her spirit, building up her confidence. Therese looked at her own hands as they wrapped around the steering wheel, astonished to see them at peace. She was inexplicably glad to have them, she realized, and the giddiness she felt over her assured palms, knuckles and thumbs was breathlessly arousing.

Driving the I-95, Therese became finally convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that what had been ignited between them was soon to catch full flame. She would see to it.

* * *

Recalling the shortest route to Carol’s home, Therese drove through the Lincoln Tunnel. She could almost hear the Jeeper hum its chummy approval, knowing the rest of the night would be entirely up to her. The epiphany it brought along made her uneasy though. Guessing she was the one with the relevant experience was enough to make her slightly nervous. Therese hadn’t thought of it at all, not taken her potential role in what was to happen into account at any point.

Squirming in her seat, Carol seemed to be having butterflies of her own. _No point in fretting over it now_ , Therese admonished herself. It had gotten pretty hot inside the Jeep, she noticed. _Or maybe it’s just me_.

When they were about to take a turn to the street where Carol’s home was, Therese’s prior calm had vanished into thin air. Ten measly minutes had been too long a time for her to mull over what would take place inside Carol’s house, to worry about a kiss, a caress, a… _Stop it!_ she ordered herself, swallowing hard. _Don’t get ahead of yourself_.

“Therese…” she heard a muffled voice call her – right before Carol went all Jackson Pollock over the dashboard, the leather interior and _her_. Bowled over, Therese raised her arms in the air to avoid touching the sorry remnants of her mother’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes on her lap. At least she now remembered what they had had for dinner, crossed her mind abruptly. Slowly she became aware of Carol’s teary desperation, of her complete and utter shame over what she had just done.

At first Therese didn’t see it coming, the laughter that was gurgling out of her. It made no sound at all in the beginning, but only because it needed to burst out of her with all its might. Therese found the situation comical for many reasons, any immediate romantic overture becoming an impossibility being one of them. Relieved, Therese let the joyous tears stream down her face as she did her best to console her crestfallen companion. 

* * *

After hosing down the Jeep, Therese could hardly wait for her own turn. She knocked on the bathroom door, but even though it was ajar, Carol didn’t hear her at first because of the steady flow of water. _Take a cold shower, Romeo_ , Therese scoffed at herself once she had been told where she could freshen up.

It felt glorious to get rid of the soiled clothes, to wash away the stench that had stuck on her hair. Her underwear had survived the attack, she noticed gratefully. The soft flannel shirt next to the sink resembled the one Therese had, so she chose to wear it to add a warm layer to her otherwise scant outfit.

Drying her dark hair on the towel, Therese sat on the guest bed to figure out what to do next. The Jeep was drenched inside and she wasn’t looking forward to driving it any time soon. Carol’s nausea troubled her, the incident in the car having been already the second time it had happened during their short history. _People are psychosomatic_ , Therese reasoned, _and prone to react physically to emotional stress_. The explanation did nothing to soothe Therese’s mind, for what else had there been to cause Carol stress in the car except her?

Carol was kind enough to let her stay the night, yet she was evasive when asked about her feeling sick. No, Therese didn’t want any tea; she wanted to go to bed with Carol, even if for just another night’s worth of sleep. _Why am I like this?_ she asked herself. _She’s just vomited her guts out and all I can think of is getting it on? Christ_.

But it wasn’t so cut-and-dry, she realized, for her need to accelerate things between them stemmed, strangely enough, from insecurity. Therese knew what happened _in bed_ , but most of the time she had no clue what was going on _outside of it_. She wasn’t known for long courtships, quite the contrary; she had always cut to the chase. The pining, bittersweet anticipation had never been her game.

 _But this is not a game, is it?_ Therese questioned when she had meekly wished Carol goodnight and returned to the guest room. Propped on her elbows on the bed, she let her eyes roam around the room she found just as impersonal as guest bedrooms tended to be. All of it was so – _mauve_ , and she hated the word as much as she hated the color.

The tasteful yet sterile bureau in front of the bed had a bowl of potpourri on it and a collection of seashells, all of them arranged in a formation too neat to be natural. Framed botanical prints adorned the walls on each side of the bureau – _wisteria, crocus, poppy, rhododendron…_ Therese identified as many as she could. They all looked fine but at the same time way too color-coordinated for her to find them genuinely pleasing.

Therese wished she had had the good sense of bringing the superb shot of the Helix nebula she had acquired a few weeks ago with her. She could have given it to Carol to rejuvenate this ennui. Then again a view of the dying star 650 light-years away might not have made the most suitable gift for someone in mourning. Therese loved it all the same. She adored its fierce, human eye-like beauty, the intense glow of its hot stellar core and the rebellion it exuded as it unraveled its dusty layers into space. _The wonder of a star not willing to ‘go gently into that good night’ would surely enliven any drab space_ , she sighed.    

Turning off the lights didn’t help Therese feel any less anxious. She simply couldn’t fall asleep. The room was dark and vapid, the mirror ball of memories barely flickering in some distant galaxy of her frustrated mind. She lingered persistently on the threshold of wakefulness and slumber, only the tip of her consciousness touching the other side.

Not knowing how long she had stayed that way, Therese became aware of a faint sound emanating from another room. She didn’t recognize it at first nor did she get up to listen to it right away. When the voice, or rather the wail, grew stronger, Therese understood its source. She sneaked out of the guestroom and tiptoed behind Carol’s door, pressing her ear against it. Now she heard it distinctly – Carol was crying in her sleep, her sobs becoming louder in rising waves of slumberous despair.         

Therese didn’t hesitate to enter Carol’s room. She never questioned it, for she couldn’t stand to hear her cries, her desolate tears. “Wake up…” Therese whispered, leaning over Carol, watching her open those nebular eyes she longed to brighten. She would wake her up only to tuck her in again, to tell her that all was well in the universe they inhabited. She would stay close by, Therese promised. She would not leave Carol alone in the dark.

Therese sat down in the armchair next to Carol’s bed. She observed how sleep washed softly over Carol’s face like a gentle swell of the sea that smoothed the grainy beach. All relaxed now, Carol’s features were free from the anguish evident only a short while ago. Therese didn’t even want to fall asleep now, for she was too enchanted by what lay before her. She wished she could have cradled Carol in her arms, but just thinking of it seemed forbidden. A line from a poem Bob loved to cite sprung up, and like all lines and all poems hidden in the murky folds of the night, this one, too, spoke to her.

> _If ever any beauty I did see, which I desired, and got, ‘twas but a dream of thee._

* * *

_This must be a dream_ , she thought drowsily. Her limbs nearly shivering, Therese had remained in the chair and finally drifted to sleep. She did not open her eyes or move a muscle, scared the illusion might abandon her all too soon. Therese felt the warmth of a blanket, the hands that gently arranged it over her chilled skin. The words she heard heated her more than the soft cover or the faint smile of the sun on her shoulder.

Therese wanted to open her eyes, to return the sentiment and much, much more, but the sudden terror of knowing what it would mean rendered it impossible. This was a fantasy detached from her reality, for it had not yet caught up with her conscious deeds and decisions. _To act on it now would be a mistake_ , Therese admitted to herself. She had known it all along, even if she had tried to ignore it tonight. Until she spoke with Jane, made her peace with what had to be dealt with, this what she had with Carol would have to remain suspended in air.

A new certainty filled Therese as she sat watching Carol wake up two hours later. She would make breakfast for Carol, Therese decided, and then she would enjoy this beautiful morning with her before setting out to accomplish what she had to do.

Humming the familiar Beatles tune, Therese wanted to pamper Carol with food just like she had done once before. Filling the moka pot with water, she heard someone enter the house unexpectedly. A woman Therese had never seen in her life soon stared at her utterly surprised.

 _This should be interesting_ , Therese mused, noticing how the woman’s outlook changed from a puzzled greeting to jubilant mischief in no time. The woman, _Abby_ , was rubbing it in, Therese noted, and Carol wasn’t taking her friend’s shameless amusement well at all. _I suppose I’d be tickled to death myself in a similar situation_.      

* * *

The little boy was a riot, Therese thought. Washing their compromised clothes from last night, Carol had left them on their own for a while. Lou had gotten Therese’s sexual orientation right at first sight, which had not only amused the hell out of her but also told her a lot about some feisty grown-up conversation he must have been eavesdropping to.    

“You’re not Batman”, Lou said sharply, watching Therese build a missing wall to their Lego fortress. He sounded very disappointed.

“I know…” Therese replied, glancing at him. “Sorry about that.” Lou’s remark was just as lovable as it was incomprehensible.

“Why do you have his car then?” Lou asked without missing a beat. The thought obviously troubled him.

“I do?” Therese wondered, surprised. “What makes you think that?” _It must’ve been some conversation_.

Lou’s freckled face remained adamant. “Mom says you drive the Batmobile.” His tone was almost accusatory.

“Are you sure?” Therese asked, quirking her eyebrow. “Hmm… maybe she mistook my Jeep for Batman’s car?” she suggested. Lou’s short attention span was, however, showing already. His interest in Therese’s car was waning fast.

“Aunt Carol is a hot blonde”, he stated unexpectedly. The way Lou said it told Therese he was quoting yet another one of her mother’s wisecracks.

“I believe she is,” she admitted, biting her lip fervently. _Dyke with a batmobile and a hot blonde…_

“What is a hot blonde?” Lou asked, attaching neon pink feet to an otherwise stern-looking Lego figurine.

The question threw Therese off for a second. “Umm… it’s someone who’s very beautiful and has a blonde hair.”

Lou seemed to think hard about what she had just said. “Mom thinks you want to be her friend.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Therese mumbled, playing time. “Because aunt Carol is… a hot blonde?” Lou nodded, pleased that Therese had understood him so effortlessly. “Know what, Lou”, Therese continued, “I like her very much but not because of her hair…” Her answer was lacking, but it was all she could offer for now.

“You don’t like aunt Carol’s hair?” Lou asked, astonished. The half flamboyant, half morose Lego warrior lay forgotten on the floor.

“Oh, I do like it”, Therese hastened to correct, “but you wouldn’t want anyone to like you just because of your red hair either, would you?” She congratulated herself for a nice save.

“Sarah likes my hair,” Lou mumbled, crashing a toy plane into Therese’s brick wall.

“Who’s Sarah?” Therese asked, hoping to change the subject.

“She wants to kiss me all the time,” he complained. “Girls always kiss me.” Lou looked so grieved, it melted Therese’s heart.

 “Well, that’s not so bad,” Therese attempted to console him. “It means she likes you.”

Lou was not impressed. “My mom says girls like kissing.” He found the notion utterly unbelievable. Before Lou had a chance to continue or Therese could say anything in return, Carol appeared in the doorway.

“What are you two talking about?” Carol smiled, leaning against the door frame.

 _Kissing_ , Therese wanted to blurt out just to see the look on Carol’s face when she said it.

“Batman,” Lou quipped. The new figurine he was holding had a black, pointy-eared mask and a dark cape.

“Can I be Catwoman?” Carol pleaded with Lou, winking at Therese.

 _Only if I can be Batman_ , Therese smiled inwardly, wondering what might have happened if Lou had shared his insights with Carol present.

* * *

Two hours later it was time for Therese to leave. Lou had been picked up an hour earlier. Listening to Carol, Therese beamed at Carol’s nervousness as she rambled on and on about the Vassar observatory and the weather forecast for the coming week. Therese didn’t want to wait for so long to see her again, and all of a sudden it was very easy for her to say it out loud. 

When Therese finally sat behind the steering wheel, she hardly paid attention to the Jeep’s current condition. Carol had agreed to come up with something special for the following weekend – an experience of a lifetime, no less.


	14. Amor fati

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very difficult and hard chapter for me to write. That's all I'm saying.

Therese was standing by the door of her room when she saw Richard come in. She had been waiting for him, growing more restless by the minute. “Where’s your sister?” she asked him impatiently. “I’ve been trying to reach her all morning.”

Richard took off his coat, barely glancing at her. “Aren’t you an eager beaver,” he sneered. “Pun intended.” He lifted his backpack on the table and proceeded to rummage its contents. “Jane’s gone home for a couple of days. I’m sure she told you.”

Therese tried to remember if Jane had mentioned anything about it, and a distant recollection proved that she had. Therese had been too wrapped up in herself to pay any real attention to it.  “When is she coming back?” she interrogated Richard nevertheless.

“Late Friday evening, I think,” Richard mumbled before gazing at Therese with a devilish grin. “But I’m sure you can make her an offer she can’t refuse.” His innuendo was all too obvious.

Therese knew she could get Jane to come back on a moment’s notice, but would it be fair to summon her here for a break up? It would take Jane at least five hours to drive from Concord, New Hampshire, to Poughkeepsie. She could very well wait till Friday evening, Therese assured herself. They would talk and have it all out that night – the night before she was supposed to see Carol.

Therese felt good about the decision she had made. She would wipe the slate clean and start all over, she mused, confident in her ability to make it happen. Yet the confidence seemed curiously fragile to be examined in any detail as if its pretty shell would break with the slightest contact with reality. In order not to dwell more on it, Therese focused on the positive, on their visit to Scotch Plains and the dance, on Carol’s quiet confession in the dark and Lou’s innocent revelations. _So she has thought of me that way_ , Therese mused. She imagined Carol getting a hilarious and surprisingly accurate reading of their current situation from Abby.

_Carol’s told me and my wife so much about you_. Abby’s words echoed in Therese’s mind signaling one thing only. Friends never let a stranger on about something like that if it didn’t serve a specific purpose. In other words, Carol’s interest in her went beyond the usual. Therese knew how these things worked; she had been around the block enough times to figure it out.      

It was easy to push all trepidation aside with the uplifting evidence she had been handed. To build upon that, Therese looked up the number of a friend of hers, a silversmith she had gone to school with. Laurie shared Therese’s interest in celestial objects and she had incorporated them in her work. One of Laurie’s jewelry lines was called _Carpe Noctem_ , which was the reason Therese called her. She wanted to give Carol something but not just anything. She wanted to mark the occasion with a gift that would hold a special meaning for them both, since she was certain the coming Saturday would be no less than a red letter day.      

Later that same day, as she was just about to fix herself an early supper, the doorbell rang. “Dad…” Therese said, taken aback by Bob who was suddenly standing behind the door. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t expected to see him show up without prior notice.

“Can’t I come and see how my beautiful boy is doing?” Bob grinned at her surprise.

“We just met… the other day,” Therese mumbled, knotting her brow. “Is everything alright at home? Is mom alright?” she fretted.

“Everything’s great,” Bob said, dismissing Therese’s needless worry with a wave of his hand. “I had some business in a lumberyard in Newburgh, so I decided to make a detour to see if you’re home.” He took off his baseball cap and made a failed attempt to part his limp hair. “Wanna grab something to eat?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Therese welcomed. She was only too happy to give up cooking for a juicy burger.

* * *

“So… how’ve you been?” Bob asked when they were sitting in a booth at the local diner.

Therese’s smile was wry. “Gee, Dad… you’re so subtle,” she chuckled. “I had a very nice evening, thank you for asking.” Shaking her head, Therese grinned at Bob.

“What? What?” Bob laughed. “Can you blame me for being curious? We had a long talk about you yesterday.” He stopped, glancing apprehensively at Therese.

“You and Mom?” Therese asked sharply. Bob acquiesced to nod. “I see.” She didn’t know what to make of Bob’s heart-to-heart with her mother. The fact that he and Rose had discussed her wasn’t surprise in itself, but his willing admission of it having taken place disturbed Therese.

“Look... I didn’t come here to give you a hard time,” Bob said, looking at her intently. “I came to check on you. I won’t deny that – but only because your mother is worried about you.” A huge, halved sesame seed bun with a chunk of meat stuck inside had landed on a plate in front of him. He took a hungry bite of the burger, its condiments oozing on his patchy beard.

“Are _you_ worried?” Therese asked right away. Bob kept chewing his mouthful, buying time for the needed answer.

“A year ago when you came home,” Bob started pensively, “you didn’t eat and you hardly said a word. We knew what had happened even though you didn’t tell us about it then. We let you be.”

Therese didn’t want to remember the sharp, relentless pain she had endured that spring. “Do we have to talk about it?” she asked impatiently. “It doesn’t have anything to do with my life anymore.” An uncomfortable twinge in her gut mocked her pitiful lie.

Sighing, Bob put the burger down. “Yes, we do, and yes, it does.” He wiped his fingers with his napkin. “Before you go all ballistic on your sister, let me assure you that it was an honest mistake…” Therese stared at Bob, disbelief and anger flickering in her eyes.

“Calm down, Carly didn’t mean to say anything and she didn’t, not _per se,_ ” he explained. “Rose asked if she knew where you were, and she accidentally slipped out New Hampshire.” He took Therese’s hands between his palms. “We knew right away, though she did try to lie for you,” he continued. “And it wasn’t a huge surprise. You hadn't been around, and we guessed you’d been keeping away for a reason.” Embarrassed, Therese withdrew her hands.

“You can always come home, no matter what,” Bob spoke. “Nothing changes that.” Stubbornly, he captured his daughter’s hands again. “You know I don’t like to meddle,” he said apologetically, “but I’d hate to see you break yourself again.” He looked at his burger longingly, but abandoned it for one more minute. “I don’t buy that ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ bullshit,” Bob went on. “I think the pain we feel is a trace of something we know we have lost,” he elaborated. “And we can’t have it back.”  

Therese was sullen. The salmon burger she had looked forward to appeared uninviting. “I’m ending it now. It’s over.”

Bob’s whole upper body seemed to swing back and forth in one continuous, gentle nod. “Your new friend…” he started, knowing fully well he was treading on very thin ice. “She’s fighting her own demons, “ he said cautiously. 

“What are you saying, Dad?” Therese asked a bit too forcefully. She resented her mother having told Bob anything at all about their talk.

Furrowing his brow, Bob was quick to notice it. “Just that she may not know what she’s doing because she wants a moment’s peace from them.” Bob’s comment hit Therese unexpectedly hard, and she tried to struggle to keep her voice steady.

“So am I supposed to sit on my hands and do nothing? I’m a grown-up and so is she – I think we know what we want _if and when_ we want it…” Her angry outburst was interrupted by what sounded like an involuntary snort. Just as Therese was about to point out its distastefulness, Bob became exceedingly serious.

“ _’So should I lie down next to my dead husband and wither away?’_ ” he stated abruptly.

Therese couldn’t get a word out of her mouth, but the look on her face told Bob she thought he had gone totally off his rocker.

“That’s what your mother said to me when we had just met.” Bob explained quietly. “It took me every shred of my will power not to go to bed with her.” He closed his eyes momentarily as if attempting to remember it even better for his daughter’s sake. “The next day she called me and cried over the phone. She was appalled by her own behavior.”

Therese had never heard either him or her mother talk about it before. Nor did she want to hear about it now. “Death is a mighty aphrodisiac,” Bob said wistfully. “A person grieving wants something that’s life-affirming, contrary to what he or she has just gone through. It’s only natural.” He cast a scrutinizing eye on Therese. “And maybe you are looking for an escape as well. Or a mere band-aid.” Knowing he had crossed at least one border too many, Bob paused for a moment before continuing in his unembellished manner. “If that’s all you want, fine, but at least be aware of it.” He resumed eating, having finally said his piece.

Therese lost her appetite entirely. The good mood she had been in was fading fast, gloom and doom hanging over her head like two nasty gargoyles mocking her earlier optimism. _Why do you do this_? she wanted to shout at Bob. _Why do you have to ruin it?_ she almost shrieked at him. But she kept her mouth shut and swallowed her venom, aware of the utter uselessness of lashing out on him. She didn’t want to let the moment pass, she wasn’t _going to_ let it pass, because _this_ , Therese convinced herself, _this_ might just be her lucky break, her one chance of happiness.  

Bob was sad to see the anger and disappointment on his daughter’s face. “A wise man once said, _‘Do not seek for things to happen the way you want them to; rather, wish that what happens happen the way it happens – then you will be happy’_.” He looked at Therese who refused to understand. 

They ended their dinner on a bad note, which went against everything the McElroy family stood for. Therese shut herself off, becoming outright rigid with defensiveness. Despite brave attempts, Bob couldn’t get through to her. He was reluctant to leave but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He knew how stubborn his daughter could be.

* * *

Back at home, Therese dialed Jane’s number again and this time the call was picked up. “What the hell are you doing in Concord in the middle of the week?” she snapped at Jane when she heard her voice.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Jane said, stunned by Therese’s fierce opening. “If that’s your way of telling me you miss me, you have to work on your sweet talk.” She waited for Therese to calm down.

Therese let the air out of her lungs in one feisty puff. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I need to talk to you. Soon.” She hated venting her frustration on Jane but she couldn’t help it. The damage was already done.

“I know,” Jane said, “and I’ll be back on Saturday. Why don’t you come over in the evening and we’ll get into it then?” She sounded hopeful.

“Saturday?” Therese questioned anxiously. “Richard said you’d be back on Friday.” Panicking, her heart was beating furiously in her chest.

“I can’t make it,” Jane said apologetically. “I promised Mom I’d help her with her brunch catering, and it won’t be over for me till 11 on Saturday morning. I’ll be able to leave around noon, so I should be there at six or so.”

Remembering the time of her date with Carol, Therese was reeling with desperation. “I need to see you before that,” she insisted stubbornly. “I’m not in Poughkeepsie on Saturday.” The line went silent for a while.

“What’s going on, Therese?” Jane asked gravely. “What is so damn important you want me to stand my mother up?” Therese could hear the irritation in her voice. “That it can’t wait one extra day?”

Therese tried to level her breathing. She was losing this battle fast, and as far as she could tell by her meeting with Bob, she was losing every single battle in the horizon. “Nothing,” Therese mumbled. “Forget it.” She withdrew to her shell and remained there, no matter what Jane attempted to suggest after that.     

* * *

On Saturday morning, Therese wasn’t quite herself. She had been quarrelsome and uncooperative with everyone she had come across with ever since she had parted with Bob. When Rose had phoned her, she had remained tight-lipped and evasive. She had ignored Carly’s calls altogether, even though she knew her anger at her was misdirected.

Mostly Therese was angry with herself, furious at her inability to change the circumstances that threatened to overpower her. The worst of all was the nagging feeling that everyone else was right and she herself was Don Quixote fighting the windmills of an unforgiving, unsurmountable reality. She had indeed had her head stuck up in her own ass for a long time now, she mused begrudgingly. Not because of Jane, but because of her own pitiful sense of self-importance and pride, neither of which seemed to know any moderation.  

She had briefly thought about suggesting that they postpone the date Carol had come up with. Such a sensible musing had, however, had an unfortunately short lifespan. Therese had lost all control of what made sense and what didn’t as if she had been sucked into some strange orbit against her will, a stupefying foreign gravity forcing her to spiral towards the inevitable.  

_Maybe it’ll be alright and I can stall one more night_ , Therese hoped. _I cannot not see her_. She remembered the pendant she had promised to pick up from Laurie, and suddenly it felt like the worst idea she had ever had. To give something so intimate as a piece of jewelry was a straightforward gesture, she fretted. _Fuck_.

It was an oddly appropriate gift though, she realized, handing Carol the gift box several hours later. The myth of Orpheus the Vega pendant referenced held all the allure of the dead in it, she mused uneasily as she recounted the legend to Carol.

Carol was pleased to have it, she noted. When Carol asked Therese to help her put it on, Therese was once again gripped by conflicting emotions. Seeing Carol in the mirror, she was overcome by the need to confess what was throwing her off balance but what she considered only a temporary hurdle in her way. She would get rid of it as soon as she possibly could, Therese wanted to say. She would make sure nothing and no one would prevent her from being whatever Carol wanted her to be. But the words never left her mouth, because she wanted to have this moment as much as she wanted all the moments after it.  

Therese pulled herself together. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she told Carol and the words rang true. She had turned her back on _her_ _own world_ that had gone out of its way to warn her against any hasty moves. The memory of Bob’s kind, worried eyes followed her as they left for West Village.

Therese was genuinely surprised by what looked like an ordinary dinner at a restaurant. When they were escorted inside, she soon realized what a sensory treat it promised to be. Having put her blindfold on, Therese couldn’t keep the obvious connotations their helplessness entailed from flooding her brain. She wondered if Carol was as nervous as she was about dining together in the dark, if she realized what it meant to not to be able to see each other for the next few hours.

So far they had relied on looks and gestures, fleeting impressions that had left plenty of room for interpretation. Now they would have to avail themselves of words, to make them work, and that was what scared Therese formidably. What she had to say for herself needed an eye contact, a channel so open it would help her to transcend the perils of misinterpretation. This was her Milky Way, her challenge to cross it in order to convey what threatened to sink in the haze of their private galaxy.

Therese did as she was told and placed her palms on Carol’s shoulder to follow her and Bill to the dining room. To touch her blindly was startling, and Therese longed to leave her hands there. She didn’t let go until Bill came and practically made her break contact. What the waiter said next seemed unimportant to Therese whose interest lay close but unattainable across the table from her. She faced front, catching Carol’s fragrance – the same she had enjoyed in her bed in Poughkeepsie and on the dance floor. She couldn’t find her champagne glass but it was just as well. She needed to keep her head clear or at least as lucid as it could remain under the circumstances.

It was a sheer coincidence that Therese found the breadbasket and Carol’s hand as it happened to land on hers. It stayed there only for a blink of an eye, but it was plenty for Therese. She picked up the embarrassment in Carol’s voice, but as far as she could tell, it wasn’t the wrong kind of confusion.

The dinner was a bewildering experience for Therese. The food tasted heavenly although she was never sure what she had just put in her mouth. She lost her spoon and shoved her thumb into her crème brûlèe by mistake, but nothing came as close in wreaking havoc in her turbulent mind as the moment she offered Carol her napkin. Afterwards she thought she must have gone a bit crazy, boldly caressing Carol’s cheek. But she had been provoked to keep it up, Therese thought. Carol had caught her hand and pressed it against her cheek. The sensation it had created had spread through Therese like wildfire, weakening her better judgment with its current of full-bodied pleasure.

When the moment was gone, Therese shut her eyes behind her blindfold. She needed to calm down, to pretend that she was still the master of her fate; that the hand she had been dealt wasn’t all that bad if only she would have the acumen to play it right.

_And now the purple dusk of twilight time_ _steals across the meadows of my heart_ _…_

Therese recognized the song immediately, and listening to it allowed her to breathe more easily for a while. She had learned to love it as a child when she had sneaked downstairs after the house had quieted down and Bob and Rose had thought she had fallen asleep. She couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time, Dannie and Phil being just toddlers. Therese had spied her parents sitting in the kitchen, sharing a piece of a cherry pound cake her mother had especially made for Bob. The radio had been on, the soft voice of Nat King Cole scenting their gentle connection.

To suddenly see them as something else than just her parents, as two separate adults Therese as their daughter couldn’t by definition ever witness, had been a startling sight for her as if she had been given a gift of looking ahead, through the years of seeking and finding and being disappointed until she might be given something similarly beautiful. Bob and Rose had sat in the dim-lit room, not speaking, just savoring the night that moved around them in tenderness. Mesmerized, Therese had watched them, conscious only of their perfect harmony.

_The memory of love’s refrain_.

The soulful rendition, the wistful melody of love lingering in stardust, had seemed to encompass the mood of the shared solitude, and it had never left her. Maybe it had sown a seed in her mind that had later led her to wonder if love was indeed rooted in melancholy, if its full bloom always depended on understanding what was the most fragile in other person. The struggles of love, the constant wakefulness it demanded was overwhelming to Therese whenever she chose to think it through, for to be a success in love seemed to need not only two open hearts and minds but also impeccable timing and luck. She could only deliver her share and hope for the best.

The pressing need to tell Carol the truth about her life consumed Therese again when the last notes drifted out her reach. When Carol said she had something to tell her as well, Therese became worried Carol would say too much before she had had the opportunity to come clean about everything.

Therese spoke determinedly, referring to Carol’s confession as something having to do with her grief. Everything Bob and Rose had said to her imbued her solicitous take on Carol’s willingness to speak out and explain.

But Carol didn’t want to hear her. She sounded almost hurt, denying Therese’s conclusions. If she wasn’t a strange thing for Carol, what was she then? And the words Carol had whispered in the night came back forcefully; they overthrew Therese’s resistance, and she couldn’t help but change her course once more. She had wanted to open her eyes, to repeat the same feeling as her own, Therese confided in Carol. And as soon as she had admitted it, the inability to see Carol became unbearable. She could hear Carol draw a quick breath and then hold it. Had she been able to look at Carol, to _really look_ at her, she was sure she would have known what ran through her mind that very moment.  

On their way back, in the cab, Therese was on pins and needles waiting for her chance to get to the point she was dying to make. Maybe after that she could reach for the hand that rested next to her thigh on the backseat. She longed to touch it and grab it, to hold it for way too long for it to be innocent at all. The hand that had touched her cheek bothered her now. It became her only focus, annihilating all coherent thought. To have it so near ruined her concentration completely.

Therese interrupted Carol before she could start anything. She needed to go first, for both Carol’s sake and her own. But what came out of her mouth wasn’t graceful at all; it was blunt and oddly deformed in its meaning.

“I’m involved with someone.” It sounded wrong, Therese thought immediately. The look on Carol’s face was blank at first, as if she had trouble understanding it. The words gradually sinking in, Carol remained strangely quiet. “I mean I have some unfinished business with someone,” Therese hastened to add to wipe away the indefinable emotion casting its shadow over Carol. “I mean I’m not involved with her _anymore_ ,” Therese stammered, “I don’t want to be involved with _her_ anymore…”

The awkwardness her clumsy sentences brought about was deafening. Carol had still not said a word, but she was squirming in her chair as if afraid her body would go numb without any movement at all. “I didn’t want to…” Therese started. “I wouldn’t want you to think…” She attempted again. “I needed you to know this before –“ The look that Carol gave her stopped her in her tracks.

Slowly, Carol got up and straightened her skirt. Another kind of silence enveloped her now, the kind that denied access and barred all entry. “That is your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t need to hear about it.” Therese wasn’t sure which frightened her more, Carol’s cool demeanor or the curt indifference of her statement. She could feel Carol slipping away and retreating behind the walls of some remote fortress Therese had no chance of finding in the black night.

“Carol,” Therese pleaded with her, “there’s so much I have to say to you yet I’m saying it all wrong…” She drew an intermittent breath, gripped with fear that was already turning into palpable pain.

“Don’t.” Carol’s voice was laced with emotion Therese prayed would grant her one more chance, let down a drawbridge to make the desired connection. But she was hoping against hope, she soon realized. “I think we should call it a night,” Carol spoke after another pained silence. “I’m very tired.”

Still sitting on the couch, Therese buried her head in her hands. She didn’t want to surrender to her tears, for she knew that if she would, she couldn’t possibly stop. Swallowing, Therese raised her head to look at Carol once more. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” Her voice wavering, she held on to her question as if it were her last hope.

“It was nothing,” Carol whispered. She didn’t look at Therese when she excused herself to the bathroom.

* * *

Numb, Therese sat in her Jeep on Carol’s driveway for a long time. A small part of her still wished Carol would change her mind and ask her back in again. The rest of her knew it would never happen, no matter how long she stayed parked in front of her house. It was late, but not as late as she would have guessed. The last agonizing minutes with Carol had only been made of lead. Now everything seemed dead, unmoving, first and foremost herself.

The cell phone beeped in her pocket, and her wretched heart leapt as she reached in to grab it.

_If you’re done with whatever you had to do tonight, I’m here and waiting. I will always wait for you. I love you. – Jane_

Therese stared at the message, trying to understand what it meant for her. The tears she had fought back welled in her eyes as she pulled out from the driveway and entered the desolate street. She wondered if it was opportunistic to seek the company of someone who loved her in her moment of utter devastation. The loneliness crushed her, and she needed to be taken care of, to be welcomed after what she had just been through. The conviction only strengthened the further away from Carol’s house she got.

Finally in her destination, after what had seemed like an endless drive, Therese got out of the car. A light was still on, she could see it through the window glass. Inhaling, she walked over to the door. It was opened before she had time to signal her arrival in any way.

Sobbing, Therese stood in the doorway for only a flash of a second before her mother took her in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will get better. I promise.


	15. All The Right Mauves

**PART III: CAROL OR THERESE**

Abby leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms folded across her chest. Carol was laying on the couch with only the peak of her head visible to Abby. Gen was rummaging the cabinets below the island for a pot and a skillet she assumed Carol must have stored there. The clanging sound they made once brought out from their hiding disturbed the silence that seemed to have pervaded the room already some time ago.

“She hasn’t said a word all this time,” Abby whispered to Gen. When they had arrived an hour earlier, Carol had simply opened the door and returned to her designated spot on the couch. The absence of a recognizable emotion on Carol’s pale face had alarmed Abby at once, but something about her friend had suffocated her questions for the time being.

“You should try talk to her,” Gen replied as quietly as she could. “I’ll make the pasta, and then I’ll go and get the boys. You stay as long as you need.” Carol hadn’t answered her phone all day yesterday, and when she hadn’t picked it up this morning either, Abby had gotten exceedingly worried. Rescheduling her appointments for the rest of the afternoon, she had alerted Gen who had luckily been done with her clients for the day.

Abby had assumed that Carol’s Sunday silence had had everything to do with the date she knew Carol had had with Therese on Saturday. She had been right about it, but in a different way than she had hoped. Something had gone terribly wrong, Abby realized the moment she saw her friend. The cool detachment Abby had from time to time witnessed in Carol had seized her once again, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Carol was not only disillusioned with Therese but with her as well. She had encouraged Carol despite Gen’s warnings, and now she stared at a woman frozen by something that had happened because of it.     

Carol stared at the ceiling, focusing on nothing in particular. Her eyelids were heavy, and she had to struggle to keep them open. She couldn’t close them, afraid of what she might see reflected in her own darkness. All the lights were on, even the one in the bathroom that hurt her eyes through the crack of the partially open door.

She had switched them on late Saturday night, telling herself it was needed for cleaning. She had taken out the trash though she hadn’t had any, wiped all the surfaces with a damp towel and vacuumed the living room rug. Carol had returned all loose items to their rightful places, carefully avoiding one room only. The door of the guest bedroom had remained shut, its linens still unchanged after Therese’s stay.

Her phone had been ringing all Sunday, but Carol hadn’t answered any of the calls. She had made a note of every single one – six from Abby, one from her in-laws. Carol knew it would be only a matter of time until Abby came busting in, and she was fine with it. She wouldn’t have to say anything at all. She wasn’t doing badly, not really. She was feeling – _formal_.

Everything around her looked curiously bleached, she thought, and she found it quite appropriate. There was pleasure to be found in the sudden opacity of the world around her, or if not pleasure, at least _peace_.

Lying there on the plush ivory couch, Carol imagined what it would feel like to sink inside the soft cushions. An odd heaviness had set upon her during the early hours of Sunday, and it hadn’t left her so far. Getting up from bed, her feet had stuck to the floor like magnets. It had taken her a lot of effort to drag them along on her way to the bathroom. Luckily Carol hadn’t been sick yesterday or today either, the ebb and flow of her fickle stomach having thankfully paused to only plot its next uprising.

Carol let random thoughts bubble up, flow through her mind at a leisurely pace. All thoughts except one. She avoided that one thought deliberately, trusting it would soon cease to exist altogether. She refused to have anything to do with it, labeling it a mere passing twist in her sanity.

Gen prepared late lunch, but Carol wanted none of it. She did sit at the table with them out of courtesy, forking her food absentmindedly. The matters of Harge’s estate were still unsettled, she remembered, and she would have to call his parents to ask whether they would like some keepsakes of their deceased son. She would also have to make an appointment with her doctor for the first ultrasound as soon as possible.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Carol?” she heard Gen speak. If Gen had said something before that, she wasn’t sure.

“No, thank you.” It was the first time Carol had said anything at all in a day and a half, but the words she chose weren’t much to shout about. They were like harsh, grave boulders that rolled down the hill and blocked the passage between the two of them. Gen looked at her, seeking a way to break the invisible barrier. After a while she got up and cleared the table. Abby sighed long and hard, her probing eyes fixed on her friend. Still, she refrained from saying anything.

When Gen had left, Abby walked over to Carol who had returned to the couch. “So is this how it’s going to be?” she asked quietly. “You not speaking at all?” If there was one thing Abby Gerhard couldn’t stand, it was silent treatment.

“Is there a question somewhere in this?” Carol asked, irritated by Abby’s accusatory manner.

“What happened with Therese?” Abby shot back. Maybe she didn’t always possess the finesse some situations demanded, but she did know how to get to the point right away.         

“Nothing.” Carol was adamant in her refusal to say anything further.

“It’s clearly not _nothing_ ,” Abby challenged. “What the fuck happened between you two?” she repeated her desperate question.

“Nothing for _you_ to worry about,” Carol insisted, and the tone of her voice resembled a warning Abby had better heed to. “ _That_ … is a non-issue from this day forward.”

Abby sat down on the coffee table, facing Carol who did her damnedest to avoid her stare. She knew Carol had the upper-hand in this mockery of a grown-up conversation; that she couldn’t get through to her any better than Gen right now. Carol needed time, Abby admitted reluctantly. She would tell her when she was good and ready.    

* * *

Abby remained patient and tactful all week. She accompanied Carol to the medical center and sat by her side as the doctor scanned Carol’s belly for the first ultrasound. Abby still remembered her own experience vividly and the ultimate surprise it had granted her and Gen.

An obscure picture formed on the black and white screen, a tiny grey presence curled up in the darkness. Carol looked at it, terribly surprised, as if it were the first time she realized what was happening inside her. And maybe she did, maybe the fierce throbbing of this strange creature’s heart every time the doctor’s magic wand moved over it was the needed signal for her to truly grasp it.

 _It has arms and legs, the little scamp, no bigger than a kumquat_ , Carol thought. A faint smile, the first in many days,  touched her lips as she lay down on the exam bed. There was something fervently alive within her, kicking up a storm of survival.  

“Sorry, darling,” Abby grinned, winking at Carol. “Looks like you’ll have to settle for just one.” Carol’s smile couldn’t help but broaden.

The doctor glanced at Abby, not quite getting her joke. “We have a strong heartbeat, and everything else looks in order as well,” she pointed out. “The measurement of crown to rump length confirms the stage of your pregnancy, although we knew it already.” She removed the transducer to Carol’s obvious displeasure. “I’ll write down the due date here but it’s pretty inaccurate. It can happen any time late October, early November.”

 _A Scorpio_ , Carol mused. _No wonder it’s given me such a hard time_.

* * *

Carol called her in-laws and told them the news. It went easier than she had expected, for Harge had confided in her mother about their frequent visits to the clinic. She was stunned to hear that he had done so but relieved as well. _One less thing to worry about_ , Carol thought after the long, emotional conversation with her mother-in-law.

She herself had remained calm, consoling the cracking voice at the end of the line. How very typical it was to end up being the one to soothe the minds of others when you yourself were supposed to be the person most affected by what had happened, Carol realized, gratefully abandoning her phone.

In the next few days the painful memory of the Saturday night flickered through her mind in recurring, perpetual motion. Carol wanted to distance herself from it as securely as possible, to isolate the heartache inside the small mauve room next to the hall. Yet every time she happened to glance at its door, the hurt she had known stabbed her unjustly.

Carol wished the room away. She wanted to hide all her sadness and sorrow inside of it, and zoom it into outer space. In her mind’s eye she saw the lonely room spinning around and forward in cold, stately seclusion, bumping into defunct satellites and spent rocket stages.

The bizarre image amused her, and the momentary lapse of her guard flashed a mosaic of smiles in her brain – Therese drowning her delight in her coffee mug in Poughkeepsie, calling her ‘old enough’, jumping off the hood of her car, getting two milkshakes instead of one… The endless loop of warm, curious eyes, smug grins – all Therese’s playful plenitudes captured Carol suddenly and completely.  

The cherry had turned into a kumquat, Carol reminded herself, and it was all she had to worry about. She shouldn’t torture herself with something that wasn’t meant to be or with someone who was clearly caught up with her own entanglements. The admission that Therese was a complex human being whose best wasn’t necessarily always good enough came close but not as close as it should have.

* * *

Carol dreaded the moment when she had to go to sleep. She would toss and turn in her bed, not knowing in the morning if she had rested at all. She must have, she reasoned every time. At some point the hours had always leapt forward. She should sleep better for the kumquat’s sake, if not for anything else.

All the rooms brightly lit as if on fire, Carol walked across the living room floor in the small hours of the morning. The one room that was dark beckoned her. She wrapped her palm around the door handle and pressed it down to open it. The air inside the guest room appeared cool and crisp, the mauve shuttle having returned from its brief space odyssey. A week had passed since the fateful night.

The bed was open the way Therese had left it. The plaid flannel shirt drooped over an ottoman that stood in front of the bed. Carol put it on her otherwise naked body. Her movements were mechanical, barely conscious. She crawled between the wrinkled sheets and pressed her cheek against the hollow Therese’s head had left on the pillow. She fell asleep immediately.        

* * *

A week later Abby and Gen attended the Climate Challenge NYC cocktail reception at _The Park_ at 118th Tenth Avenue. The place was abuzz with the leading figures of the climate community, Abby being one of them as the director of Sustainable Energy within the NRDC. While getting drinks, she noticed a familiar looking woman popping olives in her mouth at the bar counter.

“Long time, no karaoke,” Abby quipped, the corners of her mouth curving irresistibly up.

The woman who hadn’t noticed Abby sneaking up from behind turned around and laughed.

“Goddammit, Abby Gerhard! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she giggled happily. “We’ll have to do it again soon! Is Gen here?” the woman asked, her eyes darting around the crowded room.

“She sure is,” Abby smiled, motioning to Gen across the Red Room, an old world Asian-style speakeasy the party was held at. Seeing whom Abby was talking to, Gen wasted no time joining them.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” Gen asked, delighted. “It’s been ages since we last met. Singing off key, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, the woman grinned from one ear to another. “My husband got an invitation, so I tagged along,” she explained, dipping a cocktail stick with three olives into her dry martini.

“We’ve talked about your rendition of _You’re So Vain_ so many times…” Abby said, beaming at her old friend she had first gotten to know at a summer camp some twenty years ago.

“I blame tequila… and the name my Dad insisted me to have,” she winked. Her father was a huge fan of Carly Simon, after all.

Never having visited her home when they were kids, Abby didn’t know much about Carly’s childhood family. She did know she had siblings and that she was married with three kids. “How is everything with you? Jack and the little ones alright?”

Carly chuckled, rolling her eyes to tell them she had her hands full. “It’s all great… busy as fuck, of course, but you know how it is,” she said. “We go back and forth between Brooklyn and New Jersey… the extent of our travels.” Carly sank her sunny smile into her drink.

“Scotch Plains, wasn’t it?” Abby asked abruptly. Remembering the name of Carly’s home town ignited a surprising chain reaction in her inquisitive brain.

“Gosh, didn’t expect you to remember it!” Carly exclaimed. “Not a memorable place, I’m afraid.”  

Glancing at her wife, Gen was quick to jump aboard. “This is a long shot but would you by any chance happen to know a family called Belivet living there?” What she hoped to accomplish with the question, she didn’t know.

Carly narrowed her eyes curiously. “The Belivet family? The only Belivet I know in Scotch Plains is my step-sister Therese, but she lives in Poughkeepsie now.” She looked at both Abby and Gen, eager to know what had prompted such an unusual inquiry in the first place.

“You don’t say…” Abby exhaled, her eyes lighting up. “Fan-fucking-tastic!” _What was that word again?_ she mused victoriously. _Serendipity._ Gazing at Carly who looked beyond confused made her downright giddy. “Let’s go over there,” Abby said, nodding towards a red glass-topped table and four wicker scoop-backed chairs. “There’s something _we_ should definitely talk about...”


	16. Dream A Little Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear friends,
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you today. I woke up this morning to notice that I started writing my very first story, _Angel Eyes_ , almost exactly a year ago. During this time on AO3 I've gotten 4,000+ comments from you guys... YOU have been so good to me! :) 
> 
> It is an awesome, humbling amount of attention you have lavished on me, and you have no idea what it has meant for me. I've tried answering every single one, and I will continue to do so to the best of my ability. Someone once asked me if it gets boring (or something) to get comments - CHRIST, what an absurd idea, lol. It never gets old! To read your thoughts, insights and constructive criticism is a rare treat writers don't normally get, so please, keep on supporting all your favorite writers with a line or two or twenty-four. It's so very important.
> 
> Once more, THANK YOU. You are the best. <3

“Aren’t you glad I kept it?” Bob asked, lifting a small telescope onto the lawn table. Recognizing it, Therese smiled. It had been her first scope, a simple and easy way to bond with the night sky. “I never throw anything away, you know,” Bob said, inserting an eyepiece in its place.

Therese knew that, and even though Bob’s hoarding of arbitrary mementos and random junk had made Rose raise her eyebrows on more than one occasion, she was happy to see this particular piece of her childhood reappear this very night.     

After returning home, Therese had spent the first two days fluctuating between disbelief and disillusion. She had sat with her mother till the early hours of Sunday morning, first crying and then gradually opening up about every last detail of her week with Carol. Rose had listened to her quietly, not once interrupting her daughter’s lamentation, for she knew that the truth often hid in the instinctive way the words were chosen and chained together.

At one point, having heard noise from downstairs, Bob had peeked in in his flannel pajamas. Startled to see Therese so upset, he had asked if she would like him to stay or to go back to sleep. Remorseful over her rude behavior towards her father, Therese’s sobs had started anew and he had held her in his arms for a long time. When Therese had two hours later fallen asleep, Bob had watched the new day move across the wooden floor in thin, parallel lines of light. His exhausted daughter had lain sleeping on the couch, her head nestling gently in his lap.

The moonless night afforded Therese and Bob a chance to peer into the deep sky, all the way to the photons of Andromeda. “They’re all still there,” Bob said, “even if we can’t see them with the naked eye.” He moved away from the telescope, allowing Therese to take a look.

The distant, fuzzy patch of light 2.5 million light years away looked unassuming, yet it contained a trillion stars, twice as many as the Milky Way. _Give the fuzz a second thought, and you’ll understand its glory_ , Therese mused. She remembered how Carol had leaned in to see the same view Therese was gazing at now, and the image reverberated bittersweetly from one chamber of her heart to another.  

The garden surrounding Therese’s childhood home was all quiet now, the trees standing somber guard on both sides of the house. Only a few short hours ago it had rung with boisterous cheers and airy giggles, Carly and Jack having brought their children for an impromptu visit. Therese had run around the garden dodging squirt guns and water balloons Cass, 7, and Dusty, 4, had aimed at her.

The girls adored Therese, especially the wee, absent-minded Etta, 2, whose tawny hair stuck out of her skull in untamed tufts of tangled shine. Her plump arms extended, Etta had teetered after Therese like a baby penguin, its grey plumage replaced with a green Tinker Bell dress. Every time she had let Etta catch her, Therese had swept her up in her arms and dashed out of her sisters’ range with her. Etta’s heartfelt laughter had warmed Therese, and it had made her forget her troubles for the time being.

She hadn’t been able to fool Carly though. “What’s wrong?” she had asked Therese when the tumultuous triad had targeted Dannie and Phil for a change. The two brothers had just joined the merry crowd. Having cast a furtive glance at her daughters, Carly had pulled Therese farther away from her daughters’ noisy excitement.

“I blew it,” Therese had conceded. “I tried to tell her that I need to tie up some loose ends before… well, anything, yet managed to make it sound like I was two-timing Jane.” Both she and Rose had come to the conclusion that Carol might have thought something along those lines.

“Well, that’s an easy thing to fix,” Carly had commented, not understanding what the big deal was. “Go talk to her again. Make it good.” She herself had always been outspoken, almost to her own detriment.

“I don’t think she wants to have anything more to do with me,” Therese had grumbled, though Rose hadn’t shared her opinion on that.

“Have you tied up those loose ends now?” Carly had asked, ignoring her sullen remark.

“I haven’t had a chance yet, but I will. Soon.” Carly frowned at Therese’s reply but refrained from discussing it further.

If Therese had dreaded the moment when she would finally have the talk with Jane, she didn’t anymore. Not that it didn’t feel important and difficult, quite the contrary; the emotional wringer she had been through had just dampened everything, even her fears.

Bob sat down in the weather-beaten Adirondack chair and picked up his ukulele. He started plucking its strings, the remnants of a song played just before Carly and Jack had left with their girls back to Brooklyn. Etta had fallen asleep in Therese’s arms before their departure, her bantam frame curled up against her aunt’s bosom.

Bob never let them leave before Cass had sung her song. It was a ritual the eldest sister very much enjoyed, for she took her singing seriously indeed.  A precocious, lanky girl, a spitting image of Carly, Cass seemed to grow in height each time she had an opportunity to perform. After Bob’s quiet intro, the first, faint notes laying the soft ground for the simple melody, Cass had started with her clear, mellow voice Therese always loved listening to.

 

>   _Stars shining right above you_
> 
> _Night breezes seem to whisper: I love you_
> 
> _Birds singing in the sycamore tree_
> 
> _Dream a little dream of me_
> 
>  

The absolute sweetness of Cass’ childlike rendition had turned into a full-fledged smile when Phil had added his bongos to the mix.

 

> _Say nighty-night and kiss me_
> 
> _Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me_
> 
> _While I’m alone as blue as can be_
> 
> _Dream a little dream of me_

 

Having quickly removed his guitar from its case, Jack had joined Bob in the instrumental solo preceding the bridge of the song. “Take it away, lil’ mama…” Bob had murmured at Cass when their part had slowly faded away.

 

>   _Stars fading but I linger on dear_
> 
> _Still craving your kiss_
> 
> _I’m longing to linger till dawn dear_
> 
> _Just saying this_
> 
>  

Breathing deeply, Therese had closed her eyes and circled her arms tighter around Etta.  

 

>   _Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_
> 
> _Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_
> 
> _But in your dreams whatever they be_
> 
> _Dream a little dream of me…_

* * *

Though Therese was tired and utterly sad, devastated by her own mismanagement of the sensitive situation, a spirit of defiance was nevertheless stirring within her. By Tuesday, after two whole days of straight-talking and quiet contemplation with and without her family, she had more or less picked herself up.

Therese recognized a familiar pattern, an almost magical pull she possessed and had always been aware of. Whenever she was at the lowest ebb of misery, an avid aspiration to bounce back and thrive reared its invincible head, she had discovered. The survival instinct in her switched gears and propelled her towards light.                 

“You’re a fighter, Theodore,” Bob had told her when she was eight. “You are spirited and resilient. Remember that always.” Therese wondered if what Bob had said had helped her to find the will she now recognized as her strength, or if he had, in fact, instilled it in her all those years ago. _We become what we have been told we are_ , Therese had once read from a newspaper column, and she couldn’t have agreed more.

She might return home like a wounded animal that crawls back to its den to lick its wounds from time to time, occurred to Therese, but at least she had the tools to fix what had been broken in her heart. She was nowhere near being able to weigh the meaning of what she had experienced with Carol in just one short week, but in time she would surely find it out. _Time_. Now she was willing to give it time, thanks to Rose who had talked some sense to her.

“Carol got scared,” Rose had simply said. “Scared of what she might have wished for herself far too soon.” She had paused for a moment to judge how receptive Therese was to hear what she wanted to say next. “My loss revealed my weaknesses to me, and it made me to run away from my grief,” Rose continued. “And many people who knew both me and your father Joseph ran away from it too. Bob didn’t. He stuck around.”

It was exactly the sticking around part that had puzzled Therese, but before she had had a chance to ask about it, Rose had already been ahead of her. “He listened to me, and he acknowledged what had happened to me. He mowed the lawn and cooked for me, fixed the leaking faucet in the kitchen…” Rose had smiled, remembering. “He was sensitive and never once took anything I said in the heat of the moment personally.” Therese had listened to her with growing interest. “And most of all, he was honest about everything.” Rose had cast a knowing eye at her daughter.

“Was I being dishonest?” Therese had asked apprehensively.

“I applaud your attempt at being honest, though it didn’t work out the way you had hoped,” Rose had said, squeezing her shoulder as she had gotten up to make some more tea. “Maybe you’ll get another chance. Just don’t push it.”

 _Let it happen the way it happens instead of making it happen?_ Therese afforded her reluctant _eureka_ a sad little smile.

* * *

On Wednesday evening, Therese left her Jeep in the parking lot facing Jane’s place. Crossing the yard, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was to come. Therese knew what she had to say, but she didn’t know _how_ she would say it. She trusted that the words would come if she only listened to both herself and Jane for the next few hours.

Therese had asked Jane not to prepare anything special for their get-together, but Jane had done so anyway. The rugged kitchen table was covered with a smooth white cloth, two lit candles, two blue-rimmed plates and shiny silverware Jane had inherited from her grandma. Two crystal glasses and a bottle of red wine waited next to the kitchen sink. It had always been Therese’s duty to open the wine, and she was sure Jane expected her to do it this time as well.

Once Therese had taken off her jacket, they hugged. The hug was awkward but moving, she thought. She didn’t say anything about the set-up, though she wished Jane hadn’t done it. Seeing it made Therese sad, for all of it only signaled the hope Jane still nurtured inside.

Therese ate the food Jane had prepared, one of her favorites, the prawn curry with ginger, cilantro and tamarind in it. She pulled the cork from the wine but chose to drink beer herself, a light Thai lager Jane knew she always preferred with her curry. The jiggly chocolate soufflé with vanilla ice cream on top tasted rich and sinful as she spooned it slowly into her mouth.

Jane talked about everything that had happened to her since they had last met, and Therese acquiesced to listen and to watch. She looked at Jane, both at close range and at surprising distance, recalling the woman she had first laid her eyes on four years ago. It was suddenly very easy to remember what had attracted her to Jane in the beginning.     

Jane had become a part of her life so effortlessly Therese had occasionally forgotten she hadn’t always been in it. She had been drawn to Jane by her good looks, the roguish, boyish bob messing with the otherwise feminine wiles, but none of that would have taken Therese further than Jane’s bed unless she hadn’t had the spunky character she had fallen in love with.

Jane’s presence had made even the most mundane things oddly meaningful, her having put a quirky spin on Therese’s routines. A trip to a grocery store had never been just that, Jane insisting they amass ‘photographic evidence of their consumer life’. For at least a year they had had their picture taken in a tiny photo booth next to the bus station, Jane always asking her to convey the ‘mood of the day’. They had goofed around in front of the cubicle’s all-seeing eye, hefty plastic bags filling the floor between their entwined feet. So many strips of photos, yet Therese didn’t recall having seen any of them for a while. _Jane must have kept them_ , she mused.

And Jane had been obstinate and outright infuriating at times, Therese also recalled. The trips they had taken together had been mostly disappointing. Their ideas of what constituted a dream vacation never seemed to coincide, and the compromises they had reached hardly satisfied either of them. _We agree to disagree_ , they had repeated as their mantra. _As long as we keep talking, everything will turn out alright_ , Jane had reminded her. Yet it hadn’t.

After two years, their communication had become stilted and illusory, as if the mere act of saying something, anything at all, had overridden the purpose at its core. They had talked, but the words had become paper-thin, paying mere lip service to their real struggling as a couple. Therese had grown restless and moody, yet she had failed to notice the same development in Jane.

 _How easy it is to take someone for granted, to think that she or he isn’t moving even if I am_ , occurred to Therese. Her icy detachment, her sullen, lonely floe, had moved her far away from Jane’s reach sooner than she had realized. _Had I intended to come back?_ Therese asked herself. _If not, why was I so surprised by what happened?_

“You are here to say goodbye, aren’t you?” Jane asked abruptly. The happy flow of her conversation suddenly interrupted, she looked weary and broken.

“Yes, Jane,” Therese said, gazing into her sad eyes with all the warmth and sincerity she could muster up. It wasn’t difficult at all, for it is possible to miss loving someone even as you’re letting go.

“I knew it.” Jane looked away, accepting what she couldn’t possibly change. “Are you in love with her?” she asked after a moment’s silence, regretting the question right away. She let it hang in the air between them all the same.        

“You do know this has nothing to with anyone else, don’t you?” Therese spoke gravely. _No one can come between two people who truly love each other, if there isn’t a crack, an opening, a void that screams to be filled_ , she mused.

“I hope you’ll be happy,” Jane whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Therese stood up and went to her. She kneeled before Jane and cupped her cheek gently. “ _You_ will be happy. I promise.” They stayed that way for a long time, Therese telling Jane what she thought had been her mistake, what she wished she could take back. She wiped Jane’s tears away as much as she wiped her own.

They stayed up until the candles burned out, talking, crying and, finally, laughing at a few choice memories appropriate for the moment. When Jane asked if Therese could spend the night, Therese agreed to it. It was a rare experience to know that something had run its course and now lay at peace, to hold someone for a while longer only to let go forever.

* * *

The next day, Therese walked briskly towards the main building on the Vassar College campus. She had a meeting with her class advisor at the office of the Dean of Students. It was long overdue, but she felt good about it. She was – hopeful.

>   _But look; my niece is running through a field_
> 
> _calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel_
> 
> _and at the end of my block is a basketball court._
> 
> _I remember. My color's green. I'm spring._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt ending this chapter is from an amazing poem called _Sorrow Is Not My Name_ by Ross Gay. You can read it in its entirety here:
> 
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/92472
> 
> And do listen to Mama Cass Elliot's beautiful rendition of _Dream A Little Dream of Me_ :
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/track/7DX8J4uAEKKi4kkix2dQud


	17. Wonder Women

”You’re sleeping in the guest room now?” Nothing got past Abby, although this one had been easy to notice. Carol’s own bed appeared untouched, but the queen-sized one in the mauve room seemed inhabited. The bureau in front of the bed was overflowing with toiletries, a bottle of facial wash and a stick of deodorant, q-tips and cotton pads thrown in a disorderly box, and a tube of body cream, its cap left carelessly open. The curtains were drawn, denying the space natural light, which Abby found eerie and unsettling.

“The air’s better there…” Carol mumbled, avoiding looking at her friend, “less stuffy.” She walked by her and promptly closed the room’s door. She didn’t want Abby to pay any more attention to her living arrangement than she already had.  

Confused, Abby strode across the living room to check on the air conditioning in Carol’s bedroom. “There’s nothing wrong with the air in your room, darling,” she pointed out. “And you can always turn down the temperature, if it gets uncomfortable…”

“Give it a rest, will you!” Carol snapped at her unexpectedly. Seeing how startled Abby was by her fierce interruption, she frowned at her own harshness. “I’m sorry. I get edgy when I’m not sleeping well.” Carol’s faint apology was barely enough to assuage Abby.

“You need to get out of the house,” Abby stated. “Take long walks, go to a museum, see people…” She had no intention of being anything more than vague at this point, and for a good reason. Abby and Gen had learned about Carol’s fateful night from Carly. She hadn’t known the specifics, but she had told them about the unfortunate misunderstanding that had created the rift between Carol and Therese.

“I’m not at all convinced if it’s a good idea to meddle,” Gen had said, having listened to Carly. “It sounds like your sister has a lot to figure out, and so does Carol.” She had not only been thinking about Carol’s grief but also the unborn baby.

“Therese was just caught up in something she hadn’t yet had the time to bring to conclusion,” Carly had stressed. “I don’t think she should be punished for honesty, do you?”

Abby had remained quiet, listening to them. The straight rye whiskey she had been twirling around in her tumbler had stung her mouth like an abrupt warning. Carol was smart enough to see through any schemes, she had mused to herself. The scheme should therefore not resemble one at all. “No one should be punished or played,” she had said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything. We can provide them with… opportunities.”

Following Carol closely, Abby knew she would have to be very careful with what to say and to suggest. Carol was an emotional powder keg, and rubbed wrong way, the chips would most certainly fall where they may. And Abby still wasn’t sure of the one thing she had been slightly perturbed about: had Carol just toyed with the idea of falling for a woman or had she been serious about it? Abby was all too familiar with the concept of straight women experimenting, taking a trip to the so-called wild side. She may have urged Carol to give it a go, to _have fun_ , but talking to Carly had made Therese real, too.

Seeing Carol so detached and somehow defunct, lounging around the house in a tacky flannel shirt, was a troubling image for Abby. The cool façade hid a multitude of emotions, Abby suspected, yet she couldn’t access them to help Carol in any way. She couldn’t even exploit the new information she had gleaned from the chance meeting with Carly. Were she to refer to anything that had taken place between Carol and Therese, Carol would find out about Carly and all Abby’s further actions would be brought under ruthless scrutiny. Her hands tied, Abby was understandably frustrated.

* * *

After Abby had left, Carol took a shower. Afterwards she moseyed around in mere bathrobe until she happened to stop in front of the mirror in the foyer. The silver pendant she had never taken off lay immobile on top of her sternum, the slanted light of the small hall hitting the round rims of its tiny holes. She let the robe part open altogether.

Carol caressed her belly and imagined it bulging, protruding out of her like a sly mushroom from a wet, spongy ground.  She couldn’t feel anything moving yet, and she wouldn’t, maybe not for another ten weeks or so. Still, it was there, the little kumquat with an ability to make her lose her breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Carol let her hands traverse across the abdomen, all the way down to where her thighs joined her torso. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had sex, and even though she very well knew it had been with Harge, she chose to think of sex as an act with no one else involved but herself. Even though she couldn’t recall making love, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t taken care of her own needs all this time. Carol had, several times, yet lately the pleasure it had afforded her had become weaker and more difficult to attain. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep it going where she desired it to gravitate.

Gazing in the mirror now, Carol was struck by a queer notion that she herself wasn’t the one doing the touching. Someone was close behind, her soft hand travelling below Carol’s waist. She closed her eyes to see better, to feel the movement she no longer recognized as her own.

The arousal was abrupt, defined and demanding. It searched an immediate outlet, clearing her mind of all unnecessary thought. Everything neatly compartmentalized cast aside, a yearning for release sought center stage on pliant ground. Carol tried to circumvent the obvious only to return to the point of entry, to the cusp of her reward that needed one last mental push. All she had to do was think of – _Therese_.

It tasted sweet, and it tasted sour, the tonic of the adept touch she imagined having a name. Coming down clouded the specter that haunted her; it made it feebler, yet not feeble enough for it not to linger on the outskirts of her mind. _I’m fucked_ , Carol thought, _utterly, miserably, but obviously not as much as I’d like to be_.

* * *

Carol visited Abby, Gen and the boys over the weekend. The twins were bubblier than usual, their birthday coming up in just one week. Carol smiled at their excitement, listening to Mickey go on and on about the Iron Man costume he wanted to have for the superhero masquerade party.

“What are you going to wear, aunt Carol?” Mickey asked, skipping around her like a fiddle-footed puppy. He and Lou were having friends over, two girls about their age, Carol presumed. She hadn’t asked Abby or Gen about them, not deeming it necessary.

The news of the birthday being a masquerade had taken Carol by surprise, and she hadn’t had the chance to think it over. “I’m not going to tell you,” she said, laughing at Mickey’s frown. “It’ll be a surprise for you and Lou.”

Abby was busy making cocktails in the living room. The cracked ice clinked inside a cocktail shaker she was ready to fill with bourbon, vermouth and Angostura bitters. “I have my outfit right here,” Abby quipped, as the boys had retreated back to their room. Having cracked open a bottle of Maker’s Mark, she pointed it out to Carol. “I’ll be Jessica Jones,” Abby grinned, amused by her own stroke of genius. “After all I do have the superhuman endurance and strength demanded by our domestic bliss.”

Hearing her, Gen scoffed. “Not to mention the way you _fly_ off the handle every so often…” She took the glass Abby was kind enough to offer her. “ _I_ will be Diana Prince,” she winked at Carol.

“Wonder Woman?” Carol laughed. “You won’t even have to dress for the part, my dear.” For Carol, Gen represented a wondrous female indeed, thriving both as a loving mother and an astute professional. Carol couldn’t help but envy what her friends had, even though she was aware she was entitled to see only a fraction of it. No matter how close a confidante she was to Abby, she could still not understand all of it, neither the happiness nor the heartache that must come with a long partnership.

She hadn’t been all that forthcoming about her marriage to Harge either, though her reluctance had had nothing to do with doubting Abby’s ability to understand its changing currents. She had been more afraid to articulate them, to label her own misgivings with words and sentences she herself might not be able to escape once uttered out loud.

Carol took a sip of her ginger ale and frowned at its tame, uninspiring taste. The cocktail cherry Abby had plopped into her highball glass took a tumble in the effervescence, reminding her of the inevitable growth inside her.  “Did you guys have sex during pregnancy?” it occurred to her to ask.

Her eyes flickering of amusement, Abby glanced at Gen. “Oh boy, did we ever…” Blushing gently, Gen’s recollection of her nine months seemed somewhat embarrassed.

“We did,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “It was… needed.” Carol’s eyes darted from Gen to Abby and back, wondering if it would be proper to ask more about it. She didn’t have to.

“I’ll say!” Abby exclaimed. “She needed it ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME.” Giving up her prior coyness, Gen couldn’t help but snort. “I’d be at work and she would SUMMON me for a quickie,” Abby roared, reminiscing. “I could hardly get past the foyer let alone take off my coat,” she laughed. “Come to think of it, we most often didn’t,” she giggled. “The stories that bench could tell…” Abby’s voice had picked up a dreamy quality that was way too revelatory. “I LOVED pregnancy!” she summarized.           

“I’m glad one of us did,” Gen grunted, recalling the hardships of carrying two babies to full term instead of just one. “Although _that_ part was fun. Once I got rid of the morning sickness, it was all I could think of…”

 _God, I’m horny as a toad already_ , ran across Carol’s mind.

“It didn’t show signs of weakening until it got exceedingly hard for me to even wobble into the bathroom,” Gen continued. “Not only did I have the huge belly to carry around but also an enormous bust to match…” she elaborated.

“OH YES!” Abby’s unabashed shout vibrated with sheer euphoria. “Gen looked like a Gina fucking Lollobrigida, ready to pop out of her bra any minute… I FUCKING LOVED, LOVED, LOVED pregnancy!”

Carol laughed at her friend’s saucy confession. She did remember Gen at the last stages of her gestation very vividly, the full, gaudily defined lips of hers and the overwhelming sensuousness she had seemed to embody. Abby had obviously done a splendid job, keeping Gen happy and satisfied all those months, and it made Carol wonder if anyone would find her equally attractive during this time she now faced.

The mirror image flashed back, the taste of it still lingering on her needy palate. Carol had kept her secret, hardly dormant, from Therese. Why should she have revealed it to Therese after what she had learned herself? What difference would it have made, and if it had, would she have even wanted it to be the thing affecting Therese? It was too late for her to brood over any of it, Carol decided, too late and useless.      

“Mom…” Lou was yanking the hem of Abby’s shirt. “Mom!” He was his usual impatient self.

“Mommy’s engaged in an adult conversation right now, sweetheart,” Abby said, not paying attention to her son’s need to interfere.

“Mom!!!” Lou insisted, not taking no for an answer.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Go harass your friends,” Abby snapped, eager to get back to what Carol and Gen were saying at the moment.

“Cass says Captain America is just a loser with stereos…” The way Lou put it caught Abby’s attention against her will.  She suppressed a smile, guessing whom Carly’s daughter must have gained her wisdom from.

“Umm… loser on _steroids_?” Abby mumbled quizzically. “Steve Rogers was medically helped, but that doesn’t make anyone a loser, sweetie. Ask your psychotherapist mother, she knows all about it.” By the time Abby had turned to look at Gen, she was bubbling with laughter.

“Cass? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about her before,” Carol said, quirking her eyebrow at Lou. “Is she a new friend?” she wanted to know. Not surprisingly, Lou remained stubbornly mute.

Suddenly nervous, Abby glanced at Gen. “Oh, they’ve known each other forever, she’s a year older. A daughter of an old friend of mine,” she hastened to say. Abby was also acutely aware of the play date running out of time. Carly would pick up her girls any time now.  

“And what’s the other girl’s name?” Carol asked Lou, ignoring Abby’s remark.

“Dusty. She’s a cry baby,” Lou deemed dryly.

 _That makes a fine name for a… stripper_ , Carol mused, smiling at Lou’s apparent distaste for girls. “I don’t hear her crying at all,” she pointed out to him. “Will they be here for your birthday?” she asked further.

“I guess,” Lou groaned, ogling Abby whose contribution to his resentment he found lacking at best. Sighing, he took his leave and returned to the scene of Cass’ blasphemous crime.            

* * *

Luckily Carly didn’t pick up the girls until Carol had left. “I’m so sorry, the client was late and then it took longer than I expected,” she apologized, breezing in.

“No worries,” Abby grinned at her. “Carol was just here, and I would’ve hated to explain who _you_ are…” she sighed, relieved.

“Anything to drink around here?” Carly asked hopefully. Abby was only too happy to oblige. When they had settled into a relaxed conversation of how well the kids had gotten along, Lou made another surprise appearance.

“Mom…” he started again, but this time Abby tried her best not to pay any attention to him at all. “MOM!!!” Lou shouted out to obtain her undivided attention.

“WHAT?” Abby yelled back, too irritated for her own good. “WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING AT ME?!?” She had just about had enough of her willful son’s total disregard of the grown-ups’ space.

“I want Therese to come to my birthday party.” Abby, Gen and Carly stared at Lou, not believing their ears.

“What did you just say, sweetheart?” Abby wanted to confirm, her voice dripping honey.

“I want Therese to come to my birthday party.” They had heard right the first time, no doubt about it.

“Lou…” Abby beamed at the little boy. “Lou… my darling, precious, ingenious boy… _YOU_ are _MY_ son,” she exclaimed, picking up the bewildered little fellow and flinging him up in the air.

* * *

One week later, Therese Belivet stood behind the front door of what she assumed to be a lavish apartment in a stately Manhattan brownstone. She didn’t know what she was doing there, why she had been invited in the first place. The only way Lou and his mother Abby could have gotten her address must have been from Carol. But it didn’t make any sense, for Carol didn’t want to see her. She hadn’t heard a word from her for weeks, and she had all but given up hope she ever would.

Ringing the doorbell, Therese took a deep breath. She heard kids’ feet stomping around, and then a set of adult footsteps entering the foyer. Adjusting the mask firmly on her face, she braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

Abby opened the door and smiled. Batman had arrived.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you too young to know the Italian film star of yesteryears, _Gina Lollobrigida_ , check out her busty splendor here:
> 
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/4b/Ivo_Lollobrigida_sw.jpg
> 
> Her mammary glands were so loved by us Finns that the first part of her last name - "Lollo" - became synonymous with the word 'breast'. LOL (LO)
> 
> I, myself, have always been appreciative of her acting abilities, of course...


	18. Holy Heart Failure

The party wasn’t quite in full swing yet, although by listening to the ear-deafening noise one wouldn’t have known it. Batman had been seized by Captain America, Iron Man and three Powerpuff Girls the moment she had set her foot inside the apartment. ‘Blossom’, ‘Buttercup’ and ‘Bubbles’ targeted her right away, and even their mother, the female incarnation of Professor Utonium, appeared strangely familiar.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” Therese whispered to Carly while trying to hold her balance with the tiny, giggling Bubbles pulling her ankle.

“Is it really you, Therese?” Carly gasped convincingly. “I could ask you the same… Abby is my old friend and the kids have known each other all their lives.” She was grateful for the exaggerated goggles she had improvised to go along with the plain white lab coat she was wearing. It did hide an elegant little black dress underneath though.

A hyperactive Hulk breezed by, delivering a playful sucker punch to Batman’s body armor. It distracted Therese enough for her to drop the interrogation for now. “In a way I’m glad to see you here,” she muttered to Carly instead. “I have no idea why I’m here. I’ve met Lou only once. At Carol’s.” Therese felt warm behind her tight-fitting visor. She was certain Carly could see how nervous she was by the way the small muscles around her exposed mouth and chin were quivering.

“Carol? Your lady friend?” Carly pretended to be astonished about it. “Is she here?” Carly _was_ surprised, but it had more to do with Therese’s willingness to believe in what she had thought was a lacking performance on her part. Had Therese been herself, she would have never bought such a clumsy act.

“Haven’t seen her so far,” Therese replied, eyeing her surroundings suspiciously. The grown-ups present were a colorful array of offbeat characters, some of which hardly qualified as traditional superheroes. Wonder Woman was serving beverages to a pint-sized Thor and a shy Superman while a G.I. Jane tried to extract bubble gum from their tangled hair. A pretty brunette currently talking to a tall, grey-bearded Wolverine, sported a spiffy Princess Leia look, complete with trademark hair buns and a laser sword. Noticing Batman, she gave the caped crusader such a thorough look it made Therese blush under her cowl.

A female Sherlock was leaning heavily over a sultry Marie Curie in the corner of the living room in what looked like an attempt at some serious smooching despite the kids running around. Even the deerstalker cap cocked on naughty Holmes’ head looked frisky, the earflaps hardly holding onto the knot on top. Therese wondered what might have come out of the radioactive encounter, had Abby not told them to pipe it down.

Carol hadn’t arrived yet. Therese would have surely recognized her by now, no matter what costume she was wearing. And she knew Carol would be dressed accordingly, for Abby and Gen had specifically told all the parents they were expected to suit up along with their kids. No one was allowed to just drop off his or her child and leave, the printed invitation had reminded everyone.

“Batman…” Captain America kept bumping into Therese with his shiny star shield. “Your sign’s up!” Lou’s serious mouth had curved into a lovely grin.

“Holy Hallmark of Heaven!” Therese shouted out and let Lou drag her to the area mainly reserved for younger guests’ madness and mayhem. Overpowered by the kids she knew and by several she had never seen in her life, Therese lay flat on her back on the floor when she heard Abby open the door for one more late arrival.

 _Holy Heart Failure_. Catwoman stood in the foyer talking to Abby who refrained from looking at the kids’ room. Therese could only see Carol’s profile, but it was plenty for the moment. The form-fitting spandex jumpsuit Carol was wearing had a shiny wet-look Therese found mind-blowingly sexy. Gawking at Carol from under a pile of rowdy children, Therese’s thoughts wandered to what it must have been like to slip inside the slinky number with a mandarin collar and a center-front zipper. Seeing Carol’s black heels made her happy she was floored already. Only after Carol had vanished from the doorway, did Therese dare to get back on her feet again.

While Catwoman was making her rounds greeting the grown-ups in the living room, Professor Utonium sought Batman’s company. “Meeeow…” Carly uttered, flustered by the feline villain she had just been introduced to _._ “You should drag her to your underground lair immediately,” she mumbled breathlessly.

“You’re not helping!” Therese hissed at her sister. “I’m damaged goods.” She sighed long and hard, an X-rated Batman fantasy flashing unavoidably through her brain.

“There’s nothing damaged about you, sweetie,” Carly said. “Anyone can see that. But I suppose you should play it cool for now.” She managed to catch both a bulky Green Lantern and a minuscule Spider-Girl before they tackled her to the ground. “Just stay away from Princess Leia. I think she wants to use her Force on you.” Therese rolled her eyes at Carly who was tickled by her own lame joke. “Or maybe you _shouldn’t_ stay away from her…” she changed her mind.

“What the hell are you blabbering about?” Therese whispered back. “Are you insane?” The overeager princess didn’t spell just trouble, she spelled ‘star wars’, and Therese was done with spaced out females circling her like cats in heat. The only kitten she was interested in was prancing around the living room, unaware of Therese’s batty presence.

“Cool your heels, Dark Knight,” Carly soothed her. “Little jealousy never hurt anyone, that’s all I’m saying…” She winked at Therese and took her leave. Another Sazerac with her name on it was waiting at the open bar.

Therese sighed again, feeling the hard, unrelenting contours of her artificial face. She imagined her bat ears drooping in fear, terrified by the inevitable locking of eyes with Carol the Catwoman. She had chosen to come of her own free will; no one had forced her in the least. The thought of Carol giving Abby her address had buoyed her hope, but seeing Carly with the girls had made her think that Carol had probably had nothing to do with her having been invited. The kids were busy playing pop the balloons, and the noise was shattering her eardrums. Still, it was nothing compared to the terrified pounding of Therese’s heart.

* * *

“You look abso-fucking-lutely good enough to eat,” Jeanette complimented Carol once she had realized who hid behind the black eye mask. She herself had come as Gertrude Stein, although it wasn’t clear to anyone without explanation.

“Thanks, darling,” Carol laughed pleased to hear her entrance had had the desired effect. “Since it was required we all dress up, why not go all the way?” Most of the ladies present were seriously worked up over her apparel, which she found very flattering.

“Only one thing is missing… where’s your whip, honey?” Jeanette grinned, guiding Carol to the bar.

Shaking a Sidecar, Abby overheard them. “I believe she’s saving it for the more opportune moment, am I right, Catwoman?” She winked at Carol who was only too happy to play the part she was assigned to.

“Right you are,” Carol said, smiling. “I need to check the merchandise before I make a move on my prey.” It felt good to be silly, Carol thought, seeing Abby and Jeanette chuckle at her joke. She tasted the non-alcoholic sour Abby had made her and pretended to enjoy it.

“I think you don’t need to look too hard,” Jeanette said. “Your archrival is in the other room – looking gorgeous, by the way…” Abby glanced at both Jeanette and Carol but refrained from commenting in any way.

“Really?” Carol asked, mildly interested. “You have a Batman here, Abby? How very considerate. Who is he?” Even though the idea of pretending to be amused by lewd remarks some stranger would derive of their matching gears bored her, she wanted to humor Abby’s friend anyway.

“Actually it’s a Bat _woman_ …” Jeanette hastened to correct. “Too bad for you, I guess, but for my weary eyes she’s a gift from the heavens.” She placed her right palm on her chest as if to calm her racing heart.

Not willing to discuss what Jeanette had just said, Abby focused on her cocktail shaker. For Abby to pass a chance to hit a verbal homerun was enough to make Carol suspicious. She picked up her glass and took a few cautious steps towards the kids’ quarters only to be joined by Abby in a heartbeat.

“Carol…” Abby started, but it was too late. Carol had reached the doorway, the excited children flocking at her feet. Mickey spun around her like a frenzied carousel horse with a dizzyingly short path, but Carol’s interest lay elsewhere. Her eyes were fixed on the rather slim and wiry Batman who froze momentarily under her tenacious gaze. Below a heavy, black mask, Therese’s supple lips and the curve of her chin were still recognizable. Carol’s heart skipped a beat, a sense of acute terror and excitement pervading every fiber of her being. Therese took away what had covered over half of her face. Not flinching, she held her gaze just as long as Carol did.

Carol turned on her heels and nearly bumped into Abby. “Carol, please…” she pleaded with her. “Hang on a minute, for God’s sake!” She followed Carol to the kitchen, but Carol was too upset to talk to her at first. When she finally did, her voice quivered with anger.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Carol asked, not hiding her disappointment. “Why is she here? Do you think this is funny?” she questioned.

“Lou wanted to invite her,” Abby explained, motioning for Carol to keep it down. “Lou – remember? Your other godson. He met Therese at your place and took a shine to her.” Abby knew she could present a strong case to defend herself and she would. “I’m not one to deny my boy what he wants,” she elaborated.

“Since when?” Carol scoffed, sniffing a weak point in Abby’s argument. “The place is teeming with kids and grown-ups, but Lou just had to invite the one woman I am deliberately steering clear of?” Carol wasn’t buying it.

“Lou!” Abby hollered into the hall where she thought she had seen a red-white-and-blue streak flash by. “Captain America! STEVE!!!” The little boy glided into the kitchen, his red curls pushing out from under the headpiece. He raised his shield to fend off unwanted questions.

“You wanted to invite Therese to the party, didn’t you?” Abby asked Lou, impatient to get the matter settled. Lou took turns looking at both Carol and his mother. He didn’t say a word.

“You’re a fine piece of work, Abigail Gerhard, blaming an innocent child…” Before Carol could finish her sentence, her admonition was promptly disregarded.

“I’m going to marry Therese,” Lou stated matter-of-factly. Having said that, he darted out of the room as speedily as he had landed there. Stunned, Carol pulled a stool under her. Lou _had_ insisted on inviting Therese after all.

“Now there’s a conflict of interest…” Abby mused out loud. “Should I root for your or my son’s happiness?” she asked Carol in mock seriousness.

A reluctant chuckle escaped Carol. _Poor Lou_.  

* * *

After the twins had opened their presents, the guests indulged in both savory nibbles and birthday cake Gen had lovingly prepared. Lou and Mickey whirled around Therese who had given the boys ‘a stellar gift’ – a color print of their very own birthday star whose distance in light years matched their six years on earth. She had also promised to take the boys to an observatory to get a close-up of their star.

Noticing how consistently Carol avoided Therese’s company was beginning to bug Carly big time, and when something did, she wasn’t known to leave it at that. “Abby,” she whispered to her friend. “What’s the name of that intergalactic bimbo over there?” Realizing what she had just said, Carly tried to retract her hasty sentence. “I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice person…” she mumbled.

Tickled by Carly’s quick-fire assessment, Abby snorted. “You must mean Dawn?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Why the sudden interest?”

Carly’s brow was furrowed as she let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to get this party started, if you know what I mean. Kick some sense into those two… stir the pot a bit.” Flashing a wicked smile, Carly nodded towards Princess Leia aka Dawn. “Watch me.”

Before Abby could get a word in, Carly had walked over to Dawn to exchange a few words. The sprightly princess seemed very pleased by what Carly confided in her. Walking back, Carly mimicked a successful basketball shot to signal Abby that her mission had been a hit instead of a miss.   

Princess Leia wasted no time fluttering over to talk to Therese. “What the fuck did you say to her?” Abby asked Carly, slightly worried.

“I just told her that Batman is painfully shy but really interested in talking to her,” Carly muttered under her breath. “Now go stand next to Carol… _this_ should be interesting.”

Therese became aware of someone coming very close even though she was looking the other way. When Therese saw the bun-haired princess park right next to her, she nearly jumped.

“I hear you’re into astrology,” Princess Leia said as her opening.

“No. Astronomy,” Therese replied, growing uneasy.

“Is there a difference?” the woman asked, further invading Batman’s space. Her movements were flirtatious, inappropriate for an astral majesty, Therese thought. _Then again her father was Darth Vader…_

“Yes.” Therese stared straight ahead, breaking into a cold sweat.

“I’m a Virgo. What’s your sign?” Princess Leia wanted to know. She wasn’t going to give up easily.

“A black, stylized bat emblem reflected on the night sky,” Therese mumbled, annoyed.

“You’re funny!” Leia/Dawn giggled. “I like a woman with a sense of humor.”

 _Or with a pulse_ , Therese mused. She kept looking for Carol, hoping to catch just a glimpse of her.

Carol was paying attention even if she had managed to keep it under wraps. Therese couldn’t see her, but she sure as hell saw Therese talking to that fawning woman.

“Looks like Dawn has set her eye on the prize,” Abby commented as soon as she found her hiding friend.

“Dawn?” Carol wondered, not getting Abby’s remark right away.

“Princess Leia’s real name is Dawn,” Abby explained. “She’s a receptionist at Gen’s office and a single mother… a nice girl who, like Lou, has a great taste in women.” Abby was rubbing it in, and she knew it.

“Oh…” Carol mumbled, digesting the bitter information.

“If I’m not mistaken, our fair princess is about to go _Han Sol-over_ Batman,” Abby envisioned, glancing slyly at Carol. “Just look at that body language, the way she’s stroking her neck and wetting her lips while talking to Therese…”

“Abby!” Carol interrupted her. She had eyes; she didn’t need a narration.

“What?” Abby questioned, narrowing her eyes. “Or let me rephrase: what the fuck is wrong with you? You obviously want to be with her. You wouldn’t be here sulking if you didn’t!” she reproached Carol. “Besides I hate mixing up sagas. Who’s ever heard of Princess Leia seducing Batman? Christ…” Abby winked at Carol.

Carol looked defeated. “Can you get her out of there?” she asked meekly.

Abby rolled her eyes at Carol. “No, Carol, _I_ can’t. And you’re not a hapless teenager anymore. _You_ go and get her out. It’s _you_ she’s waiting for.”

Carol took a deep breath but managed only a couple of steps to her right to let Therese know she was watching her. Therese noticed her immediately. Her mask was still off, the parted hair falling on her forehead mussed by the weight of its former shield. A contact was born from the simple gesture, and it arched over the restless room like a bridge made of distant hushes and heartfelt apologies.

It lingered on until a teeny cannonball named Etta Taft rolled unexpectedly toward Catwoman. Little Etta locked her arms around Carol’s legs, her blue sequined dress rustling against the tight spandex. Overwhelmed by the little girl’s abrupt affection, Carol was curious to know more about her captor.

“And who might you be, darling?” Carol exhaled breathlessly. The fierce hug didn’t show signs of weakening.

“Etta,” said Etta whose dainty voice managed to undulate even within one small word.

“She’s my sister’s youngest daughter.” Therese stood right in front of Carol. “My sweetheart,” she said, not looking at Etta though.

Before Carol could utter another word, Gen breezed in. “Time to play the name game!” Following Wonder Woman, Jeanette had a marker and a pack of post-its with her. “I want everyone here, and _everyone_ to play,” Gen demanded, casting a knowing eye at Carol as she passed her by.

Abby was the first to have a post-it stuck on her forehead. “Got it? I ask you questions and you answer me ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘not applicable’,” she reminded her audience. “Hell, you can say whatever you want as long as I’ll guess what the fu… fuss is all about… on my forehead.”

Lou looked at her mother funny. “You said a dirty word,” he grumbled to Abby.

“I did no such thing!” Abby denied vehemently. Ignoring her son’s criticism, she asked the forgotten Princess Leia to be the first to help her out. “Am I pretty?” Abby asked, grinning. The character she was guessing was Sherlock Holmes.

“Depends on who’s answering, I suppose,” Dawn giggled, “but I would have to say no.”

“Am I handsome then?” Abby asked, her brow askew.

“Definitely,” Dawn confirmed, smiling.

Abby turned to Therese. “Am I fictional?”

Therese nodded. “Yes.”

“Am I in this room..?” Abby asked a follow-up question based on a sudden hunch.

“I’m afraid so,” Therese chuckled. The randy private eye was still cornering the famed Nobel laureate in the corner.

“I live on Baker Street, don’t I?” Abby shouted out victoriously. “With _Dr. Watson!!!_ ” The latter part was meant for the unabashedly amorous couple. “Now everyone wears one – stick ‘em on, Jeanette – and everyone guesses, okay?” ‘Gertrude Stein’ pressed a post-it on every forehead in the room, kids included.

After Etta had chased an imaginary nemesis to the kitchen, Therese had remained standing next to Carol. The sticky note on her forehead said ‘Lord Voldemort’. Carol had removed her eye mask to make room for a post-it titled ‘Big Bad Wolf’. It felt only natural to aim the opening question at the one lingering closest.

Smiling self-consciously, Therese looked at Carol. “Well… am I old?” she asked.

Carol glanced at ‘Voldemort’, knowing very well what she ought to say. “No, not at all,” Carol stated instead.

Therese paused to think of another question. “Am I beautiful?”

Drawing a deep breath, Carol replied. “Yes, very beautiful.”

“Young and beautiful, huh?” Therese grinned. “Am I alive?”

Carol nodded. “Very much so. Full of life.”

“This is more difficult than I thought this would be…” Therese mumbled pensively. “Am I fictional?”

Carol shook her head. “No, you’re very real.”

Therese tilted her head to the side as a random thought, a wish, entered her mind. She took her time before asking the next question. “Am I someone you would want to hang out with?” She was suddenly very serious.

Her cheeks reddening, Carol cast her eyes down. “Yes.” She swallowed before she dared to go on. “My turn now… am I – attractive?”

Therese searched Carol’s eyes under the ‘Big Bad Wolf’. “Yes, you are,” she spoke gravely.

“Am I old?” Carol needed to know.

“Just the right age,” Therese replied, her voice sweet and tender.

Carol braced herself for the final question. “Am I someone who is talking to someone who is still involved with someone?”

Therese gasped. “No, you’re not. It’s finished for good.”

Carol raised her eyes to meet Therese’s. “Would you like to leave with me right now?”


	19. Envelop(e)

On her way to retrieve her cape, Therese stumbled on a bench in the hall. _Fuck…_ she cursed silently, rubbing her shin. _Breathe._ Therese hadn’t exactly replied to Carol’s question, but the frenzied look in her eyes had told Carol all she had needed to know. _Sex..._ _we’re going to have sex... sex… we’re going to have sex,_ spun wildly in her brain on an endless loop. Therese had seen it in Carol, the undeniable come-on. _God_ , she exhaled. _It’s going to be awesome_. She was beside herself with excitement.

Therese ran around the children’s room frantically, searching for items she would have to return to the costume shop on Monday. _Where’s my mask?_ She looked under the boys’ beds, between the folds of the bean bag left rumpled on the floor like a tortured turtle. _My utility belt?_ She had taken it off at some point, she recalled. _The finned gloves?_ She let out a desperate sigh. _What is it about friggin’ gloves..._ she griped, crawling on all fours to take a peek under the bookcase. _Sex! Sex!_ _Sex! Sex!_ kept flashing before her eyes like a traffic light stuck between red and yellow.

Therese felt hot under her body armor, even weak, and for some reason her eyes were tearing up. _I’m so moved. That’s it. I just can’t believe it’s really happening._ All the advice her loving parents had given her had been pushed into the background, to some distant corner of her mind resembling a dentist’s waiting room. There it sat, her better judgment, mutely browsing old magazines and pretending that whatever lay ahead couldn’t possibly have anything to do with pain.         

“Is everything alright?” Abby asked, amused by the sight that greeted her on the floor of Lou and Mickey’s room.

“I’m GREAT,” Therese exclaimed, jumping back on her feet. She regretted her hasty move, for her feet felt wobbly. “It’s just that I seem to have lost some of my superhero accessories and I need to return all my gear to this rental shop in Chelsea…” she revealed to her friendly hostess.  

“Seems to me you haven’t lost your superpowers though,” Abby smiled. “That’s what counts, isn’t it?” she winked at her.  Therese beamed at Abby. She really liked her suave style and mischievous attitude. “They’re prone to come up when we tidy the place up,” Abby said. “Why don’t you write down the name and the address of the place, and I’ll take the stuff back there. It’s no bother at all.”

Abby was kind to offer her help, and Therese appreciated it. The idea of having to return to Manhattan only to return the missing pieces seemed foolish. “Sure,” Therese said. “Can I have a pen and a piece of paper?” Abby motioned for Therese to follow her to the spacious kitchen.

“There are pens and some junk mail on top of the credenza over there,” Abby said. “Scribble it down on a used envelope or something…” A piercing shriek from the living room interrupted her. “That sounded a lot like Mickey,” Abby sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

Clearing her throat, Therese nodded and picked up a haphazard pile of random ads and torn, empty envelopes. She sat down at the island to scratch out the needed information. A plain, white no. 10 sticking out of the stack seemed appropriate for the purpose. Therese turned it around to write on its cover. Without actually intending to, she made a note of its sender.    

> _New Hope Natural_
> 
> _4 Columbus Circle, 6th Floor_
> 
> _New York, NY 10019_
> 
> _Tel. 212-555-0137_

The name of the place looked faintly familiar, yet Therese didn’t pay any attention to it at first. Only when she clicked the pen and started to scribble on the white surface, did she suddenly remember. _The ballpoint in Carol’s bag…_ Slowly she became aware of a vague discomfort in her gut, of a premonition that didn’t bode well. Her heart aflutter, Therese flicked through the miscellaneous pile, looking for something to connect with the vacant envelope. A folded color brochure turned out to be its perfect match. 

> _New Hope Natural – Helping Nature Take Its Course – Over 5,000 Hope Babies Born since 2007_

The unease strengthened, tightened its grip.

> _Pioneers in Egg Freezing and IVF – Start A Family With Hope – Blissfully Pregnant_

It all made sense now. It had been staring Therese in the face. Carol’s vomiting, overall discomfort, even the odd items in her grocery bag… All those ‘new hope’ entries had had nothing to do with _hope_ , they had only referred to Carol’s visits to this clinic, dawned on Therese. Her husband might have died but she was pregnant. A new life was stirring within Carol, mocking death and decay. No wonder she was lost, grasping at straws in all walks of her life.

 _She’s fighting her own demons_. Bob’s words billowed back, capsizing her. _She may not know what she’s doing because she wants a moment’s peace from them_. Therese squinted her eyes shut. Watery and raw, they stung behind her eyelids.

Therese remembered what Carly had confided in her when she had been expecting Cass. And Dusty. And Etta. “I feel so randy all the time,” Carly had confessed. “If Jack weren’t so willing to get it on every chance he gets, I’d probably drag the clients into the back room and jump them over the azaleas… Hell, I’d tackle them to the floor in front of the counter!”

Carly’s hardy laughter vividly imprinted in her mind, Therese shrank from her new knowledge. It felt like a kick below the belt. Carol was going through the biggest chance of her life, yet she hadn’t deemed Therese important enough to be made privy of this information.

 _What am I? A hormonal twist in Carol’s heterosexual sobriety?_ Therese didn’t want to accept it. She refused to believe that the moments they had enjoyed together hadn’t been meaningful beyond the apparent sexual chemistry between them. Carol had wanted to be with her. She still did, she had just said so. But this was heavy, this was huge, Therese understood. _To be with me – in bed?_ For the first time in her life, Therese was almost depressed to know she was wanted that way. That she might be wanted _only_ that way.

 _I could be her booty call_ , Therese thought, but the abrupt sentiment had a lasting, bitter aftertaste. She could go to Carol’s house right now and keep her up all night. And this time Carol wouldn’t be complaining about the lack of sleep either. _I would be on my way to Carol’s bed, had I not happened upon that brochure_. A part of Therese wished she had never seen it, another part told her she had to find out about it before anything happened. Her heart that had beaten so vigorously only ten minutes ago had turned into a sad, pallid pendulum keeping listless score of her vitals.  

“Are you okay?” Abby had come back from her first aid mission. “You look pale.” For a second it looked like Abby was going to press her palm on Therese’s forehead to check her temperature.

“I…” Therese started with difficulty. “I don’t… feel too good.” The change in Therese that had taken place in just five minutes was so profound, it jolted Abby.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked, placing her hand softly on Therese’s shoulder. She noticed Therese holding something in her right hand. As a matter of fact, she was clutching it inside her fist. “I’m going to get Carol…” Abby started, looking over her shoulder.

“No!” Therese croaked. The hoarse voice that crept out of her parched throat startled both of them. “I mean, it’s not necessary…” she added more amicably. “I’ll be alright.” Suddenly she wished Carly would come and rescue her.

“What’s taking time in here?” Carol asked. She was standing in the doorway. Noticing the blank stare in Therese’s eyes, her manner softened. “Therese…” she murmured. “What is it?” Carol walked over to Therese and touched her face with her right hand. “You’re burning up!” she exclaimed. Carol’s cool, soft hand drank the heat from Therese’s cheek.

 _I am?_ Therese mused, swallowing a painful lump in her sore throat. Then she felt it, too – the all too familiar ache that shook her body like a draft that squeaks the hinges in an empty house. Her wrists and ankles hurt, and her heavy head was scattershot with erratic pain.

“Has the party moved into the kitchen or why are you hiding here?” Carly wanted to know, landing her empty shot glass on the counter.

 _Thank God_ , Therese exhaled silently. Her sister would know what to do, or at least she would get her…

“Therese is ill,” Carol explained to Carly. “She’s running a fever, see for yourself…” Carly put her palm on Therese’s forehead, and soon after Abby dared to do the same.

 _For fuck’s sake…_ Therese closed her eyes again. _Anyone else? Gertrude Stein? Princess Leia?_

“She _is_ hot,” Carly confirmed, visibly concerned. “Poor baby,” she cooed to her little sister to Therese’s embarrassment. “What has gotten into you…” she mused out loud.

“Partying with kids is like being one of the unnamed victims in the beginning of _Jaws_ ,” Abby said. “Only this time you’re swimming in a petri dish swarming with petulant, blood-sniffing viruses. You won’t know from which direction peril will strike you and how, but believe me, it will.”

By now Therese’s teeth were chattering, the chills having gotten the better of her. Sensitive to light, her eyes lingered at half-mast. Carol stood close, and had Therese pushed her head an inch to her left, her nose would have hit the unzipped part of Carol’s cleavage. _God…_ she mused, not aware that the thought broke out of her in a series of dampened whines.  

“I’m going to call Jack and ask her to pick us up right now,” Carly decided. “You need bed rest and some ibuprofen…”

Relieved to know her sister was taking command, Therese let her body slacken as thoroughly as humanly possible next to Catwoman’s alluring assets.

“No,” she heard Carol speak out. “I’m going to take Therese home with me and get her to bed,” Carol said in a manner that shunned all objections. Her determination was too much for Abby who suddenly bent over as if she had been dealt a blow in her diaphragm. She had to grab Carly’s shoulder for support.

“I’m so proud of you…” Abby’s muffled avowal was cut short by a bout of badly suppressed laughter that made Carly giggle, too.

“WHAT?” Carol questioned Abby. Therese’s wretched condition had rendered her totally clueless of her potentially dubious statement.

“Oh, nothing…” Abby squealed in her state of stifled, tickled agony. Carly had bowed her head down, but her shoulders were jerking.

“People are starting to wonder where you guys disappeared,” Gen reproached them, entering the kitchen. “Oh my god! Therese! You don’t look too good,” she gasped seeing Batman stare ahead with bloodshot eyes.

 _No shit, sherlock_ . Therese tried to focus but the room swayed in front of her. _Paging frisky Sherlock…_

“Your fever’s on the rise,” Gen acknowledged, touching Therese’s face on both cheeks and on the forehead. “Luckily we have a doctor here.” She waved at Jeanette who had followed a few steps behind.

 _Sure… bring them all in…_ Therese tilted her drowsy head back to let Gertrude Stein paw her for a change. She felt light fingers probe her lymph nodes. Somewhere in the immediate distance Carol coughed impatiently.     

“A common flu, nothing to worry about,” Jeanette soothed the concerned women. “It’s a virus, so she’ll just have to weather it out. Plenty of fluids and rest,” she said, aiming her words at Carly.

“THANK YOU,” Carol blurted, intercepting the advice. “I’ll take it from here.” Jeanette held her hands up in surrender, surprised by both Carol’s iciness and initiative.  

“Marie Curie…” Therese mused, not realizing she had wailed it out loud.

“She’s getting delirious,” Carol fretted. “We need to leave right away. Can you call us a cab?” she asked Gen. Therese’s left foot slipped off the bar of the stool, making her upper body reel unexpectedly towards Carol.

“Whoa, easy does it...” Abby gasped, ready to help Carol catch Therese’s swing of the pendulum. Carol didn’t need her assistance, she got Therese.

Her left temple pressed against Carol’s spandex bosom, Therese listened to her heart; how it beat its rhythm into her ear.  She imagined discerning another pattern, a tiny yet fierce drum roll fighting for its life in isolation. A slow hand caressed Therese’s hair, fingers twining weary threads of sable.

“I’ll drive you,” Gen said, picking up her car keys. “Someone had to stay sober…” she retorted, aiming her snide remark at pink-cheeked Abby.

* * *

Afterwards Therese couldn’t remember a lot from the ride to Carol’s. She only recalled entering the house, her head splitting. Everything looked the same though blurred by her feverish state. Therese had looked forward to coming here, and then she had almost escaped it. Carol asked her to wait until she had changed the linens in the mauve room. Why, Therese couldn’t understand; she had only slept in them once.

Without another word, Carol took her to her own bedroom instead. “I’ll sleep in the guest room,” she insisted. “You’ll be more comfortable here.” Too weak to argue, Therese sank into the same armchair she had once sat watching Carol.

Tears welled up in Batman’s eyes, soon streaming down her cheeks and over her jawline. Therese knew why she was crying, what purpose it served. She was sick and fatigued, but even more than that – sad and forlorn. Carol had kept her in the dark, and she was still doing it. Knowing what she did, Therese wondered if her sorry condition was real or if she had brought it on herself in a matter of minutes.

“Oh Therese, you are in a bad shape, aren’t you?” Carol asked rhetorically as she helped the costume come off of her. Hatched out of the bat suit, Therese shivered in the middle of the room in her underwear. She wanted to close her eyes, to give her every agitated thought a rest.

* * *

 _You took care of me, and now I will look after you_. While Carol had stepped into the kitchen to get her patient something to drink, Therese had fallen asleep. She put the glass on the nightstand and adjusted the covers around the ‘human caterpillar’. That’s what Carol’s father had called her when she had been sick with flu and tucked in bed as a child.  Carol didn’t have any siblings nor did she have her parents either anymore. Both of them had died in quick succession when she had been barely twenty.

It pleased Carol to remember her father’s remark, for she hadn’t recalled it for years. Why she did now, she wasn’t sure. The only thing that seemed to connect Therese to her deceased parents was a sense of familiarity. _Familiar as in having something to do with family_ , Carol mused, sitting in the armchair. _How accurately words reveal links and associations necessary for our lives if only we’re willing to listen_ , she thought. She thought about her mother’s illness, then Harge’s, and how the word _cancer_ was almost like _cancel_.

 _Therese was familiar_ , Carol admitted. All this time she had felt it palpably. _Should I have told her about the baby despite her falling ill?_ she questioned once more. Carol had meant to tell her tonight before anything more happened – before _the more_ she very much wanted happened. It frightened Carol but it had to be done, no matter how badly she wanted Therese. She would tell Therese the truth and let her draw her own conclusions. She might never see her again after that, but at least she would have been honest.                  

Now it had to wait until Therese got better. She couldn’t possibly spring something like that on someone who was sick and unable to take off if she felt like it afterwards. To lessen the possible shock, Carol had tried on many different approaches, all of them equally horrendous.

The old-fashioned and the weirdly hopeful:

 **I’m in the family way.** _Decided to start it on my own, but hop onboard anytime_.

The greedy and the gluttonous:

 **I’m eating for two.** _Never going shed those extra pounds, darling_.

The fun and the flighty:

 **I have a bun in the oven**. _Baking it as we speak… Christ_.

The careless and the quirky:

 **I’m knocked up**. _Went to the clinic but somehow didn’t see this coming_.

The curiously confusing:

 **I’m expecting**. _Like waiting_ – _for whom? Godot?_

The twilight zone-y:

 **I’m with child**. _We will haunt you in your dreams_.

But Carol did know how she wanted to say it. She would sit Therese down and tell it like it is. But the time had to be _just right_.

* * *

The evening sailed softly into the night, the outlines of the bedroom dimming into oblivion. Drowsing, Carol heard Therese shudder with cold under the covers. Therese was asleep, but her restless squirming gave away her dire need. There was nothing left to insulate her against cold. The extra blankets Carol had dug out of the closet weren’t enough anymore. Carol got up and pressed them tighter around Therese.

Carol heard Therese speak in faint, pained mumbles. It was enough to make her crawl into bed right behind her. This way she could at least keep Therese warm and relax her dithering body. Carol pulled her into her arms, as tightly as she possibly could without waking her. Therese sighed in her sleep, relieved by Carol’s nearness.

 _I am not going to get an eyeful of sleep_ , Carol mused, yet when she opened her eyes some time later, she knew she had. Therese lay close, completely at ease, but not like she had been before. Fast asleep, she faced Carol, her head on her chest, their limbs entwined.    


	20. Zigzagging

“Found them!” Gen placed the finned gloves on the kitchen counter. “Lou had hid them in the Lego box, hoping it would stall Therese,” she laughed amusedly.  
  
“Hmm…” Abby murmured indistinctly, sitting at the island. Deep in thought, she seemed troubled.  
  
“Why the long face, honey?” Gen asked her. “It was a swell party, wasn’t it?” Standing behind Abby, she wrapped her arms around her wife.  
  
“Hmm…” Abby repeated, stroking Gen’s hand absentmindedly. She looked preoccupied, almost stern. Slowly, she took out a color flyer from her pocket and pressed it on the island. The brochure had been fiercely rumpled and then straightened out again.  
  
“What’s that?” Gen asked, taking a closer look at its contents. “You want another baby, darling?”  
  
Abby dismissed her question with a slight scowl. “Guess where I found this,” she spoke instead. Nonplussed, Gen refrained from answering. “Therese had it.”  
  
Gen wasn’t getting her point at all. “I know it looks promising for those two, but wouldn’t that be jumping the gun?” She chuckled at the mere thought. “They haven’t even u-hauled yet.”  
  
Still perturbed, Abby tapped her finger on the sorry-looking flyer. “Therese was ecstatic before I left her alone for five minutes. When I came back, she was utterly changed and clutching this in her hand.” The bad feeling Abby had gotten the moment she had returned to the kitchen had only strengthened in the past few hours.    
  
“Therese was sick,” Gen pointed out. “She was feverish, almost delirious by the time I drove them home.”  
  
Abby wasn’t buying the obvious explanation. “There was more to it,” she claimed. “She forbade me to get Carol when I realized something was not right. I think Batman found out something Catwoman hadn’t yet told her.” Abby hated loose ends and unresolved matters.  
  
“That’s taking it a bit far, don’t you think?” Gen questioned. “And it’s _our_ junk mail, not Carol’s.” As far as Gen was concerned, Abby was blowing this out of proportion.  
  
“She threw up in Therese’s Jeep,” Abby said. “And it wasn’t the first time either. Therese must have known something was up.” Abby’s gut feelings were hardly ever erroneous, and Gen knew that.  
  
She examined the way the brochure had been mistreated. “Carol really hasn’t told her yet?” she asked somewhat rhetorically.  
  
Sighing, Abby shook her head. “She needs to do it right away, or shit’s going to hit the fan. This is starting to look bad.”            
  
Gen glanced at the wall clock. “It’s 2 AM. You can’t call her this late. It’ll have to wait till morning.” Abby nodded, hoping the next day wouldn’t bring disaster in its wake.  
  


* * *

  
Therese woke up painfully aware of her poor state. Her eyes were puffy as if she had been crying all night, and her head felt hot, heavy and fragile like a bubble of molten glass dangling from a blow pipe. This wasn’t at all how she had imagined her first awakening in Carol’s bed to be, this was the antithesis of it. Depressed, she gave her desolate thoughts a free pass to penetrate every crevice of her mind, to cram themselves in and wedge her lackluster resistance apart.  
  
The amount of sleep Therese had clambered through had left her groggy and listless. She had a vague recollection of a dream of constantly falling yet never hitting the ground. Each time the nightmare had recurred, she had stopped right before the earth’s surface only to be yanked up again by an invisible bungee cord of unknown origin. It had exhausted her, the heartless repetition, and Therese knew the memory of her restless sleep would haunt her for the rest of the day. It always did until the next night allowed for another mindset, a small happiness or an elusive sorrow.  
  
Her Batman costume hung from a hanger on an upper door handle of a closet. The wide, scalloped cape partially draping the protruding chest armor, it looked as if a giant hawk-moth had flown in and stuck on the wall. Carol’s bedroom was no bat cave, but Therese liked it better than the mauve boudoir. Here the dominant color was shadow blue, canvassing the walls as the background of the floral wallpaper. The delicate white buds drooping in their swirling, Roman silver stems were soothing to the eye, Therese thought, and had the circumstances been any different, she would have truly appreciated the peace they bequeathed.     
  
The bureau behind the armchair had two framed photos on it, one of a distinctly happy couple, the other one of a handsome but serious man. The picture of a man and a woman didn’t look too recent; as a matter of fact, it appeared to have been taken decades ago. Both the man’s smile and the woman’s poise bore a striking resemblance to Carol, Therese noted.  
  
The lone portrait of another man had an altogether different air to it. He looked straight into the camera, his brown eyes impenetrable yet intense. Therese was certain she was staring at the photo of Carol’s late husband. Never having heard his name, Therese thought he looked like a James or a William whom Carol had probably never called either Jim or Bill. Somehow he seemed way too dignified to have a nickname. She wondered if the unborn child would have his or her father’s sad puppy eyes or Carol’s cerulean ones. He must have been relieved to know that not everything went away with his passing; that something of him was still left behind, incubating in the woman he had obviously adored, she mused.    
  
Therese felt her own forehead and winced. The fever was on the rise again, having seesawed all through the night. She recalled the discomfort she had had, though it thankfully hadn’t lasted too long. Other than the weird dream, it was all Therese could remember. She wondered if Carol was still sleeping, if she had been disappointed by the turn of events, by her illness.  
  
Therese rested her head back on the pillow, exhausted by the simple act of looking around. It occurred to her that they had probably had sex here, Carol and ‘James/William’. Many times, the straight kind that makes the bed springs sing. _Why do I torture myself with this?_ she griped to herself.  
  
Calling heterosexuality ‘straight’ had always amused Therese, for it begged the question of what her preference was like. Veering? Meandering? Zigzagging? For Therese sex with women had been delightfully deviating. Having no overly touted and societally approved roadmap had only added to its allure. ‘The road less travelled’ had given her a good ride so far. Now Carol wanted to experiment with the turning, coiling, ‘corkscrewy’ sex. _Fine_.  
  
Despite the soreness of her throat and the fever, or maybe because of them, Therese was getting angry. She knew very well that she was being unreasonable, but knowing it didn’t help her get over her gloomy attitude. Carol had tried to tell her something after their ill-fated restaurant date, that much was true, but she had chosen to keep it to herself anyway.

Carol hadn’t even tried to contact her for weeks, but the moment they had met, Carol had confronted her about her relationship. The memory of the name game stung Therese as bittersweet. All the hope it had stirred in her heart – why couldn’t she access any of it now?  _ Why the hell am I expected to account to her for my past, over-and-dealt-with relationship if she is not ready to come clean about an issue of a humongous magnitude such as pregnancy? _

Therese’s tempestuous, at times prideful nature wasn’t taking it well at all. It surfaced in moments like this, her tendency to deliberately misinterpret complex situations. It was her way to shield herself, to be on the defense in case of everything suddenly falling apart and wreaking havoc on her self-esteem.

At least  _ sh _ _e_ had had the decency not to keep Carol out of the loop even though she  _ could _ have. Carol wouldn’t have known the first thing about Jane, had she not volunteered the information. Carol had called Therese beautiful and very much alive, but right now all she felt was foolish and naïve. The intoxication of the previous night wafted back, reminding Therese of its spell. The need to feel it and the despair of not having it combined, hit her like a stray bullet. She stood in the line of fire, but the angles inside her were rigged, susceptible to what was sensory rather than cerebral.     
  
Today Batman was just an empty shell sagging from a hanger, Therese thought.  _ Better there than on the floor _ . Not trampled or treaded, the emblazoned heroism still glimmered like the tenacious dream it was. She would give Carol two hours to tell her about the baby.      


* * *

  
Carol piled random stuff on a breakfast tray - plump berries and slices of fresh fruit, juice, ibuprofen and warm cinnamon rolls.  Thanks to her quirky cravings, her fridge and pantry were fully stocked, although her mind wasn’t exactly on her task at the moment. She had been up for an hour or so, wondering if she should stay away from the bedroom or go back. 

Her fever ebbing and flowing all night, Therese had remained in a more or less constant state of agony Carol hoped she had been able to alleviate. The conviction she had reached the night before had only strengthened. She would not tell Therese about the pregnancy today. She wouldn’t dare to be so selfish as to add on her discomfort with her revelation. It would have to wait; she would have to push it aside and focus on what was important  _ right now _ .

Therese wasn’t asleep, but she looked tired and lethargic. Then again what else could Carol have expected after a restless night? “Good morning,” Carol murmured, her eyes reluctant to focus on anything in particular. 

She set the tray on the nightstand. She didn’t, however, know at first where she should set herself. In a sudden burst of bravery, she sat on the edge of the bed quite close to Therese. She picked up two pills of ibuprofen and handed them to Therese who obediently downed them with a sip from the juice glass nearest to her. She lacked interest in solid food and in talking, it seemed. The bottom of the glass clonked against the wooden tray when Therese put it back to its place.

“I’m pregnant.” It took Carol thirty seconds to spill the beans, or rather, the kumquat. It came out as calmly and matter-of-factly as if she had said ‘I need to wash my hair’. Her secret out, all she could afford to do now was to look at her own vacant hands resting on her lap.

Her soft sigh breaking the silence, Therese grabbed the hand closer to her and pulled Carol beside her on the bed. She eased down on the mattress, her head and shoulders propped on the pillows. Carol curled up against her and exhaled intermittently like a child after a prolonged cry.

Holding her breath for what had felt like weeks had drained the world of colors that now came rushing back. Abundant reds, greens and blues ambushed her in savage, saturated specks, their rims merging, overlapping in breathless permutations. She was happy to see them and exhilarated by their potency.

When Carol felt Therese’s hand moving along her side, her body responded instinctively. She hadn’t expected that, not now, but it happened and she couldn’t keep it from happening. She rose and fell to complete the gesture, the smooth line drawn on the seam of her t-shirt searing the skin underneath. The hand that did the touching was hot, feverish, yet it seemed to know what it wanted. It didn’t hesitate to lift the hem and feel further, to claim its ground before seeking for more.

Carol turned around to face Therese who helped her out of her flimsy garment. When she attempted to do the same with her shirt, Therese stopped her with a smile. She pulled Carol up to sit astride her. She looked at Carol in ardent admiration, the tips of her fingers slowly conjuring, granting wishes. What she thought, Carol never knew nor it was necessary.

Therese was still holding her gaze when her hand slid softly south, above and beyond the grasp of who was being looked at, never breaking until Carol came down.   

 


	21. Getting Off

“First of all, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t awkward as fuck, you telling me this.” Jane glanced at Therese apprehensively. “But in a way, I’m glad you did. I’m moving on as well, although I’m not always aware of it.” Amused, she scoffed at her own realization.

Therese looked at Jane apologetically. “I’m sorry I blurted it all out to you,” she said. “I guess it’s just that in some ways you know me better than anyone.” She had returned to Poughkeepsie the day before. No longer feverish, Therese had picked up her car from where she had left it the day of Lou and Mickey’s birthday party, on the street facing Abby and Gen’s apartment. Walking over to it, she had been extremely nervous as if she were stealing a car instead of getting into her own Jeep. So close to Carol’s friends’ home, Therese had felt like a prowler who was afraid to be seen.  

Carol had looked after her for three days, making sure Therese had had plenty of everything – food, drink and rest. She was grateful for it and pleased to finally have Carol tell her about the baby. Therese wasn’t, however, pleased about what had happened _after_ the confession. Running into Jane on campus, she had agreed to have lunch with her. Before Therese had known it, she had told Jane what was bothering her.

“Oh Therese…” Jane sighed. “Why didn’t you just... _hold_ her?” Jane seemed genuinely distressed by what she had just learned.

“I don’t know,” Therese grumbled. “I was sick as a dog and upset and confused… and I guess I thought it was expected of me.”

Jane looked at Therese funny. “You thought sex was expected of you?” she asked. “You just wanted to kill the conversation before it had even begun,” Jane stated. “And it sure has a familiar ring to it.” She let out another long sigh.

“She seemed to like it...” Therese mumbled, reluctant to accept what she knew to be true.

“Who wouldn’t!” Jane exclaimed. “It still doesn’t make it right.” She sounded exasperated. “First you give her a totally random timeline to deliver her news, and when she actually does, you can’t handle it.” She broke off a piece of her pecan pie and pierced it with her fork. “Or was this one of those little tests of yours no one can ever pass? Have sex with me and be damned for wanting it too soon, or don’t have sex with me and be damned because you don’t find me irresistible?” Chewing the overly sweet mouthful, Jane stared at Therese expectantly.  

Her assessment hit too close to home. Therese had been stunned into silence after having gotten what she had hastened to assume she wouldn’t be getting at all. And the quip about her testing Carol bordered on cruelty, for she did have the tendency to pass judgement all too haphazardly. In more ways than one, she hadn’t come far from making decisions based on the hoops she had managed to shoot in her old school’s courtyard.  

“I truly hope you didn’t leave it at that?” Jane asked. “Or did you roll over and fall asleep?” Her sharp question was based on prior, personal experience.

“As I said, I was very ill…” Therese started out feebly.

“Goddammit, Therese!” Jane interrupted. “Are you so afraid you’re just some horny interlude in her life that you’re willing to turn yourself into one?” She hesitated what to say next. It didn’t come out easy. “I saw how enamored you were with her when we had our talk, although you didn’t breathe a word about her.” She drew a pained breath. “You were lit up from within, yet so calm and in balance…” Jane forked the nutty, sticky crumbs of her pie, hoping they would grant her the strength to go on for a minute longer. “I’ve never seen you like that.”

Therese thought about the nights she had spent with Carol, the easy happiness and the seamless connection they had enjoyed. She wished she could turn back the time to the moment when everything had been untainted by her hastiness, her sudden lack of faith in herself with a woman who had seemed too good to be true.

And the problem was just that - her stubborn conviction that if and when something seemed that way, it couldn’t possibly be real; that it, in fact, had to be its opposite. Despite everything she had ever learned, she still viewed the world around her in stark contrasts. The good had to be the best, the not-so-good always falling on the side of downright dreadful.

“Most of the time you project such a cocksure ego, you fail to understand it’s your sensitive side other people find attractive in the end,” Jane said candidly. “I thought a glimmer of it had dawned on you, and I’d hate to think I was mistaken.” She scraped her dessert plate clean.

Therese held a coffee mug between her palms. The cappuccino was undrinkable, having cooled off to a point it no longer interested her. “I’m such an ass, aren’t I?” she said more as a statement than a question.

“You’re just insecure like we all are,” Jane replied. “But you do have some major thinking to do. A baby is a huge fact of life you can’t avoid, should you wish to keep on pursuing her.” She chuckled at something that took a moment to materialize in words. “You changing diapers in six months… _that_ I would like to see.”

Therese’s smile was faint but charming. “Thanks for putting that image into my mind,” she groaned, but the groan sounded amused as well. She hadn’t really thought about it, the news of Carol’s pregnancy being so recent. But she did understand the enormity of its implications, and the enormity was mind-boggling because it meant Carol couldn’t choose her for just herself anymore. If she were truly interested in Therese, it would mean choosing her for her child as well.

Therese thought about the tiny seedling seemingly biding its time but actually raising hell in the woman she cared about. _All those atoms in a single molecule of its DNA amount to the number of stars in a galaxy_ , she remembered having read somewhere. Therese had followed Carly’s pregnancies up close and been present in her children’s lives from their very first moments, but this was different. _Carol_ was different.

Therese wanted to focus on the unborn child but she dared not to, fearing it would jinx her chances with Carol, were she to let the idea capture her imagination. And it was too soon anyway, she mused, for she had risked everything with her reckless behavior. Nevertheless, a part of her brain pondered it subconsciously now, the baby being a hologram of not only Carol’s but her future as well, evolving into a wondrous creature as unique as the universe, _a_ universe unto itself.

“You do have one marvelous thing riding on your side, you know…” Jane said breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “Your family.”

Therese quirked her eyebrows, not getting what Jane was alluding to at first.

“Don’t give me that,” Jane almost huffed. “You know damn well you have the most amazing, crazy beautiful family that ever lived.” She rolled her eyes at Therese’s continuing state of puzzlement. “There have been times I’ve missed Bob, Rose and your brothers more than I’ve missed you. Even Carly, though I know she was never that keen on me,” Jane elaborated wistfully.

“Carly had nothing against you,” Therese attempted. After all her sister’s antagonistic views were purely based on Jane’s betrayal, nothing else.

“Nice try, and I do appreciate it,” Jane laughed. “Anyway, all I’m saying is that they’re your biggest asset whenever you muck up. Take advantage of it now that you start - groveling?” She was amused by her witticism. “And for God’s sake, Therese, keep it in your pants for now, will you?”

Therese inhaled, wondering if she would be able to know and do the right thing. She looked at Jane, and she wished she would have seen her like this when they had been together. What a mixed blessing it was to find the person you were no longer with nothing short of breathtaking. _What a gorgeous sight_ , Therese thought, smiling at a _friend_.   

* * *

Growing impatient, Abby had been trying to get the waiter’s attention for the past ten minutes. The diminutive man aware of his haughty self-importance ruled the barroom with his trademark arrogance, and although it irritated Abby immeasurably, she had to let it slide. The place had the best cocktails in the city. She looked at Carol who had hardly touched her mocktail.

“So when are you going to see each other again?” Abby asked Carol. In her opinion, the conversation had meandered along meaningless lines.

“Weekend, maybe,” Carol replied in a manner she hoped would exude nonchalance. “Therese has her job at the observatory, not to mention her classes. She’s behind in her studies.”

“I’m glad you finally told her,” Abby said. “She deserved to hear it from you after having found it out so unexpectedly.” Her seventh attempt to wave at their waiter looked promising enough.     

“What on earth are you saying?” Carol asked, stunned to hear her words. “Therese didn’t know about it until I told her.”

Furrowing her brow, Abby looked troubled. She had been certain Therese would have told Carol about the brochure. “I happen to think she did,” she said. “In fact, I’m sure of it.” She explained what she had found out.

Carol didn’t want to believe in Abby’s theory at first, but after hearing her out, she reluctantly agreed with it. Something had been off with Therese even though she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it. Up till now she had been willing to think of it having had to do with Therese’s fevered condition, her less-than-normal state of mind that could hardly handle issues of such magnitude.

To learn about Therese’s prior knowledge bothered Carol. She could understand Therese wanting to wait for her to bring it up, but why hadn’t she mentioned it afterwards? During those three days Therese had stayed at Carol’s, convalescing, she had told Therese everything she had wanted to know. Therese had asked the basic questions like how far along she was, had she been to the ultrasound, was she still suffering from nausea, politely listening to Carol explain every last detail.

Her questions had been absolutely cordial and kind, Carol thought. Therese had refrained from more intimate inquiries, which Carol had also been okay with. Surely she hadn’t been up to more at the moment. Still, her knowing it and not telling her about it put things in a slightly different light. What if Therese’s tactfulness had stemmed from something else than cordiality? Not that Carol wanted to second guess Therese’s motives; what had transpired between them that morning in Carol’s apartment had given her plenty to think about.

Tact was something Abby rarely displayed when her best friend was concerned. “Did anything happen between you two during this time?” she pried the first chance she got. “I know Therese was ill and all, but any heavy handholding maybe..?” Abby’s grin was wide and wonderful.

Hearing the question, Carol swallowed her drink the wrong way. Her coughing gave away more than she had intended to.

“No fucking way!” Abby chortled. “While she was feverish and in bed? Goddammit, girlfriend, you weren’t kidding about taking her to bed!” Abby was unspeakably giddy. “Aww… your first time…” she mellowed soon after. “Did you have a good time?” Her brown eyes were twinkling out of unbridled excitement.

“Yes.” Carol admitted, thrown by both her misplaced Shirley Temple and Abby’s straightforward question.

“And all that kissing and… kissing,” Abby continued, her eyes looking over Carol’s shoulder in sweet reminiscence.

“We didn’t kiss.” The bomb Carol dropped in Abby’s lap took its time to detonate.

“Excuse me?” she asked her eyes wide. “Did I get this right – you... _fucked_ but you didn’t kiss?” Abby wanted to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood anything.

“No kissing,” Carol confirmed. “I don’t necessarily find it so extraordinary.” But she did, even though she claimed otherwise.

“Not if you’re a prostitute,” Abby was quick to point out. “But I’d like to think no money exchanged hands here.” She bit her tongue, knowing she was skirting around a sensitive subject.

“Therese was sick,” Carol pointed out defensively. “Germs and all, you know…”

Baffled, Abby leaned against the back of her chair. “Yeah, because getting naked with the flu patient doesn’t do the trick otherwise...” The waiter brought Abby her Old Fashioned just as she had said it. Carol remained quiet, and Abby had to wait till the sourpuss of a waiter had left them in peace. “So how many times did you indulge in this strangely restrictive expression of acute desire?” she asked.

“Once.” Carol was reluctant to talk about it. Not that she wouldn’t have had dozens of questions for someone as experienced as Abby, but because she found what had happened confusing. It hadn’t been _reciprocal_. Carol had enjoyed it, but she hadn’t been given the chance to respond accordingly, to return the favor. Therese had been absolutely lovely and attentive to her needs, almost to the point of being detached herself.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked sharply. “Something’s wrong.” She saw it all written on Carol’s face, the bewilderment, the helplessness.

“I don’t know,” Carol gasped. “I doubt if Therese got anything out of it…” Suddenly pained, her voice died out.

“Oh honey,” Abby said gently. “Give it some time. I’m sure she loved it.” She squeezed Carol’s arm encouragingly. “Practice makes perfect,” Abby quipped, winking at her. “Remember Gladwell’s rule for achieving world-class expertise in any skill – you have to do it for 10,000 hours…”

Carol smiled weakly at Abby’s jollity. “First I need to be given the chance to do just that…” she muttered but Abby heard her. “It was just so one-sided,” Carol elaborated, noticing Abby’s concerned expression. “ _I_ got off – she didn’t seem to want the same,” she concluded.

“The illness can do that to you, I suppose,” Abby attempted to explain. “I mean Therese was running a fever, and it’s not like you’re feeling awfully hot when you’re… well, _awfully hot_.”                 

Abby’s insight didn’t help Carol at all. It only made her feel worse. “Why did she then initiate it in the first place?” she couldn’t help but ask. “I wasn’t expecting that… I did want her terribly at the party, but I would surely have waited for some other time.”

Abby looked pensive. “But you didn’t wait, you went along with it,” she said plainly. “You could have said ‘Therese, you’re not well. Let’s wait’. Don’t just make this about something _she_ did, it’s not fair.”

Abby had a point, Carol admitted. She had followed Therese’s lead willingly, eagerly, in fact, for she had been dying to have Therese touch her. And Carol had been ready in no time, relishing in the quick ascent and its rapturous climax. _Did I use her? Did I take advantage of her challenged condition?_ Those two questions had ricocheted in her brain ever since it had happened.

Carol missed Therese, but right now she was frightened as well. Frightened of her own sense of veering off the path she had pegged magical; afraid of the thought of having to turn around and return to the point of her origin, to the point before Therese.

For the first time in a very long while she thought of Harge, of their life together, of the safety of knowing exactly what would happen today and tomorrow despite it having had its downside as well. The grief, dispersed because of the serendipitous stranger, crawled back like the avenger in a half-hearted horror sequel. She missed Therese, she told herself - or was it the feeling of _not grieving_ she missed instead?    

Carol didn’t know. But she would find it out.


	22. The Weekend, Part 1/3

Carol didn’t see Therese the following weekend. She spent the entire Saturday with her ex-mother-in-law, going through the items she had thought Harge’s parents might like to have. On Sunday, she visited a couple of acquaintances she hadn’t kept in touch with recently. They had been friends to both her and Harge, and to see them now on her own was a duty she reluctantly fulfilled. The get-together left her doubtful she would ever see them again.

Carol thought of Therese with a heavy heart, vacillating between wanting to see her immediately and abandoning the notion altogether. A week had gone by since Therese had left for Poughkeepsie, and their phone calls had been rather sporadic during this time apart. Therese sounded more herself on the phone, Carol had noticed, and Therese had suggested they get together soon. Still, Carol hesitated, not knowing what to say or if she should propose or even encourage a meeting.

Then, on Tuesday, a letter came. It was a fancy, thick white envelope, the kind used to put greeting cards in. She sat at the kitchen counter to read its contents. The card she pulled out had a poem typed on it. The font looked delightfully old-school, the letters charmingly misaligned and their serifs slightly smudged. Whoever had written this had done so with a traditional typewriter.  

>   _May Hem_
> 
> _Playing laughter, music, each budding joy,_
> 
> _Spring frolics in the garden and grins at me,_
> 
> _It beckons the riot girl, the eternal boy,_
> 
> _To flaunt the best you can ever be._
> 
>                               -  _R.E. McElroy_

Carol smiled at the vigorous words. A quick look at it told her it was a stanza written in heroic quatrain, and she was pretty certain the capital letters in front of ‘McElroy’ hid none other than Bob. _That man,_ Carol thought, turning the card around.

>   _Dear Carol,_
> 
> _Please join our merry crowd to celebrate this season of rejuvenation for an entire weekend of fun and games. Just bring yourself – and maybe a talent of your choosing._
> 
> _Warm regards, Rose & Bob _

The dates mentioned on the invitation were coming up fast, and Carol wondered if she could and should accept it. The manner in which her heart leapt at the thought of spending more time with Therese’s family however did away with the initial hesitation. After her depressing weekend visit, she needed to see people who were truly alive, embracing the here-and-now with a fiercely beating heart. And she would meet Therese, encounter her once more in her natural habitat, the one she had found so appealing on the night of the mirror ball.  

* * *

_Scotch Plains, three days prior_

“C’mon, dad, I’m on the phone…” Carly objected to Bob’s tireless teasing, disturbing her conversation.

“Who are you talking to anyway?” Bob questioned. “Can’t you put the damn thing down and forget about it for now?” Carly’s habit of indulging in lengthy calls while visiting irritated her father.

“I’m talking to my friend Abby,” Carly hissed between her teeth. “Remember? You used to drive us to the summer camp quarter of a century ago.”

A delighted look of recognition shone on Bob’s face. “Really? Let me have it…” he practically stole the cell away from Carly’s grip. “Is this lil’ Abigail? It’s Bob, Carly’s dad…” he roared over the phone. “You still have those braces?” he laughed, hearing an enthusiastic reply. “Twins? EXCELLENT,” Bob shouted. “Listen, we’re having a spring bash two weeks from now…” he continued, heading to another room to Carly’s distinct displeasure.

“What is he talking about?” Therese asked, drying the dinner plates in the kitchen. She had come for the day since she hadn’t been able to see Carol.

“We’re having the annual games weekend two weeks from now,” Rose said as she folded the damp towel away.

“It’s always in July,” Therese pointed out. “It’s never been this early.” She kept eyeing her mother suspiciously. “What is this?”

Carly intervened before Rose had a chance to answer. “No offense, sis, but it’s because you’re an idiot…” She reached for a colander to rinse the grapes she had brought with her.

“No offense? How the hell am I supposed to _not_ be offended by that?” Therese snapped at her. “And what the hell do you know about anything?” She looked at Carly and then at her mother. _Jesus._

“Unlike _you_ , I talk to people – and lately I’ve talked a lot with Abby,” Carly shot back.  “And I told dad and Rose.” This she said in a much quieter tone of voice.

“What the fuck, Carly!?” Therese was beside herself. “I’m not going to tell you anything anymore. Ever.”

Carly made a rude gesture indicating she couldn’t care less of her sister’s threats. “ _You_ don’t have to tell me anything because I know everything already.” She was far away from finished. “I can’t _believe_ what a jackass you are… she’s a great gal, and you’re acting like a horny teenage boy!”

Worried, Therese glanced at her mother whose forehead was wrinkled either out of her ill-advised behavior or their relentless arguing. “Mom…” she started sheepishly.

“Therese,” Rose said calmly, waving her lame attempt at apology away. “Bob and I decided to move the bash up. The weather’s good and I think we could all use a nice _change of pace_ , don’t you think?” She looked at her daughter very seriously. “Knowing the drill, you’re aware of what to expect and what is expected of you, and _we_ will invite Carol.” The way Rose put it told Therese the matter was settled.

“And now he’s inviting Abby and her family?” Therese asked, her voice wavering with disbelief. “Good luck with that…” she scoffed.

“Have you ever heard of anyone turning down Dad’s invitation?” Carly asked Therese defiantly. Before Therese had the time to see the wisdom in her sister’s words, Bob returned.

“They’re coming. Fabulous!” He was positively beaming. “Can’t wait to see lil’ Abigail again… I can still recall her slouching on the backseat, all sullen and secretive.” Bob was tickled to death by his reminiscence. “The house will be abundant with kids! What fun!” he exalted, flicking his head fast to the right like a predator who has set his sight on unsuspecting prey – more specifically on Cass and Dusty who ran out to the yard giggling with their monster-mimicking grandfather on their tail.          

* * *

A week and a half later, Carol arrived at Bob and Rose’s house at Scotch Plains. She parked her car by the curb, the driveway having no extra room left. Carol was nervous to be there, but at the same time she was filled with anticipation – of what, she wasn’t sure. She was happy to know Abby and Gen and the boys would be there as well, providing her with indirect support in potentially confusing situations. When she got out of the car, Therese ran up to meet her.

“Hey…” Therese said, smiling. Standing face to face with her, Carol dropped her bag on the ground. They hugged each other lightly, the scent of Therese triggering a series of flashbacks of intense sexual pleasure in Carol’s harried mind. Therese touched her waist only in passing, but it burst into thousands of little tinges her fingers had imprinted in Carol’s memory. They danced all over her body in an endless procession, like tiny flames forming a ring of fire around her heart.

Unfathomably pleased, Carol blushed for a second. Noticing her befuddlement, Therese picked up her bag and carried it inside for her. The short walk from the car to the house felt absurdly meaningful. It was sprinkled with both devastating lightness and fitting solemnity.    

“Welcome!” Bob yelled the second his eyes landed at Carol. “You look lovely, absolutely ravishing,” he complimented her, and it was not an empty gesture. Carol did look good, the morning sickness having given way to a glow she didn’t know she possessed. “I will take your stuff downstairs to the den where you will be sleeping,” Bob explained. “You’ll have the place all to yourself, so you should be comfortable.” He turned to look at Carly and Jack. “You will take Therese’s old room, since Therese will be sleeping in the attic.”

Seeing Abby and Gen return from their second floor lodging, he continued for one more moment. “In case you’re wondering, the kids will be camping out on the living room floor – except little Etta who will sleep with me and Rose… won’t you, sweetie?” He picked up the little fairy girl who hardly ever uttered anything else than her own name. “Dannie will take the night watch on the couch, should anyone wish to sneak up on their parents’ bed at night, and Phil will do the same on Saturday,” Bob concluded. The brothers nodded their agreement. No one had anything to add to Bob’s plan, least of all Therese who had been condemned to the farthest upper corner of the house as far as Carol’s bed was concerned.

The early evening was to be executed on kids’ terms. Bob, Jack, Dannie and Phil took the children outside while Rose took charge of the kitchen. Carol and Gen volunteered to help her out, which left Therese and Abby to take care of the preparations for the outdoor gas grill.

“Where’s the beer?” Therese asked Rose before she stepped outside with Abby. She hoped to fill the bucket of ice Abby was holding with several long-necked bottles of her favorite brand.

“In the fridge downstairs,” Rose informed her. “Tell Carol to bring the barbecue marinade along when she comes up.”

Therese descended the stairs and found Carol putting on a cardigan at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you cold?” she asked her. “Can I get you something extra? A scarf, a poncho, woolen socks?” Therese grinned at Carol.

“You have a poncho? Never pegged you for someone wearing one,” Carol smiled. “I’m a bit chilly, but this’ll do,” she said, rubbing her arms for warmth.

“Rose has a beautiful poncho Bob brought her from Peru. I’m sure she’ll lend it to you,” Therese suggested. “I’d hate for you to be cold.” She looked at Carol openly with no hidden agenda.

“I’m good,” Carol said. “But thanks.” She returned Therese’s gaze in equal amount.

“Thanks for coming,” Therese smiled. “I’ve missed you.” Her right arm resting leisurely on her side, she sought support from the handrail with her left one. “Things were left a bit… weird.” She waited a blink of an eye before continuing. “I’m sorry.”

Carol glanced at the hand on the rail. The knuckles protruding in white bony ridges, it appeared to be holding on tight. She started to extend her arm toward what lay ahead but raised it to wipe her own chin instead. “Yeah… me, too.” The answer was timid but warm and sincere, which pleased Therese.  

“Rose wants you to pick up the marinade,” Therese said after a moment’s silence. “She’s gonna work your asses off.” She let go off the rail and motioned toward the refrigerator. Carol turned to its direction, and when she did, she felt the lightest push between her shoulder blades as if a sparrow had landed there only to fly away at once.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Carol murmured, opening the fridge door. She took out the container, the weight of which shifted from one side to the other due to the movements of its thick, chestnut-colored liquid.  Nearly losing the hold of it, she kneeled to secure it at the same time as Therese lowered her head to look for the bottles. A collision was barely avoided. Entranced, Therese breathed in the air that was Carol.

“Careful with that grill now,” Carol said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Therese acquiesced to narrow hers and smile, catching as many bottles as she could between her long, slender fingers.

* * *

Abby professed an unforeseen ability to work miracles with the gas grill. She was in her element, turning the various vegetables, fish steaks and burger patties around on the iron grates. The graceful brown bottle she kept holding on her left hand never seemed to run out of beer, feeding her easy banter. Carol observed her friend from a distance, enjoying the relaxed manner with which Abby lobbed quips, jokes and comments back and forth .

Rose had brought Carol a flute of champagne, telling her to drink the very best now that she could only have very little. Carol had confided in her about her pregnancy, although it didn’t feel like a secret anymore. It had been an easy fact to depart with, Rose giving her a knowing smile as she had started to talk about the baby.

“Twelve weeks… about the size of a lime, my dear,” Rose had said, scraping the capers and the chopped cornichons and marinated red onions into the potato salad bowl. “You do know what happens this week, don’t you?” she asked Carol. When Carol had shaken her head she had willingly elaborated. “The little lime that already looks a lot like an actual baby is developing reflexes…” She paused to take a long look at Carol. “We know all about reflexes, don’t we?” Rose wrapped her left arm momentarily around Carol’s back, and the gesture appealed to Carol very much.

Sitting on a lawn chair, wrapped in a red fleece blanket, Carol enjoyed what was magnificently vibrant around her. Bob plotting something with Jack between frequent bites of an overloaded triple-decker burger he kept swinging carelessly around. Gen standing on the lawn, listening to Cass and obviously not understanding a word of what the quick-witted girl was trying to get across. The way she kept stroking the back of her left shin with her right instep like a confused grasshopper was a tell Gen often resorted to.

Carly sat in another Adirondack, her head tilted back while her left hand rubbed the back of her neck. She looked content, floating in a soft red wine bubble of her own. Dusty and Etta leaving her blissfully alone for now, Carly seemed serene – until Mickey bumped into the back of her chair and made her spill Zinfandel over her crisp white chinos.

 _And Therese_ – Carol knew exactly where Therese was even if she wasn’t actively seeking her. She felt her presence like she sensed a sudden leap in temperature or a gentle shift in the wind that no longer wished to keep her from moving. Whenever Therese re-emerged in Carol’s line of sight, she always seemed to be carrying giggling Lou on her shoulders.

It was Bob who finally brought Carol out of her reverie. “Time to start the talent show,” he declared wiggling his eyebrows comically.

“I won’t go first,” Dannie stated, basing his objection on his knowledge of prior occasions. “I’m still not finished with my food.” He certainly wasn’t, his plate heaped with bratwursts and German potato salad. His brother declined the number one spot just as vehemently.

“I’ll do it.” Carol turned around to see Therese stride across the yard carrying a guitar case. She set a kitchen chair on the lawn and kneeled next to the case.

“Carol Kaye bassline, huh?” Dannie asked curiously. Pleased to see Therese take the initiative, Bob forgot all about his gargantuan burger.     

“No bass, not tonight,” Therese said simply. The guitar she picked up was not her somewhat timeworn Ibanez but a beautiful Cordoba with a Canadian cedar top and Indian rosewood back and sides.

Bob smiled seeing the guitar built for classical tradition. “So you never gave up after all?” he asked his Theodore.

“I’m not a quitter, Dad,” Therese said, winking at him. She glanced at Carol before she set her left foot on the footstool and started the piece she had prepared as her contribution to the talent display.

The deft fingers of Therese’s hand plucking out the poignant melody, Gabriel Fauré’s melancholy _Pavane_ filled the late evening air. As her hands moved on the guitar, Therese herself was almost immobile, transfixed by what emanated out of the tuned body she held in her arms. The fingers on the left finding their exact places on the strings, complementing the assured strokes on the right, Therese succumbed to the ebbs and flows of the piece’s exquisite, harmonic climaxes.

 _How can I be so happy, listening to something so sad?_ Carol mused, her eyes welling up with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favor and listen to John Williams play Fauré's _Pavane_ with his gentle guitar. It is pretty much how I imagined Therese's solo to sound like:
> 
> https://play.spotify.com/track/0pDvI7nE1VQ6McDEgqaTrV


	23. The Weekend, Part 2/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't seem to want to leave Scotch Plains so there will be one more weekend chapter before we return to our regular programming. LOL

And the happy mingled with the sad, weighing down what was weary. Carol was struck by a sense of terror that comes from knowing happiness after consistent grief. To experience spring like this felt suddenly like a betrayal, an abandonment; a cruel turning away from her husband, from the memory of those long, wintry months that had rimed entire years, never giving her a chance to pause and breathe. _In sickness and in health_ , Carol had promised, yet it had been mostly sickness she had waded through.

Or maybe it wasn’t the spring after all, but the pain of letting go even if what she was leaving behind was ruinous and rotting. The spasms of guilty relief, the unclasping of the countless tiny clamps stuck in her most tender flesh, in parts she hadn’t even known had been pinched shut. The music, Therese’s music, had stirred it in Carol, releasing both the rapture and the incipient panic.

Therese had seen how moved Carol had been, and now she picked up on her anxiety. She faced her change without flinching. “Come with me,” she said, studying Carol intently. Her voice was calm but her manner determined, almost an order. She removed the fleece from Carol’s shoulders, and took her inside the house, into the living room that was yet to be transformed into the children’s night camp. The warmth indoors rushed onto Carol’s cheeks, her neck, and she stood in the middle of the room, unable to know what to do until Therese told her.

“Sit,” Therese said, settling down on the couch. When Carol attempted to sit in the middle, Therese pulled her towards her. She did it so abruptly and decisively, it shook Carol’s fragile balance making her back fall against her lap. Therese wrapped her arms around Carol as if she had done so hundreds of times before in similar fashion; as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do, to calm her down in this real and most tangible way. Her legs the bounds and her arms the bonds, Therese held Carol together as if she were afraid Carol would fall apart any second.

“It’s okay,” Therese said in a hushed tone. “You’re safe.” The tears Carol had shed in the garden were replaced by new ones, and she mistook them for more potent because of her guilt. Silently they streamed down her cheeks. She hoped she could keep them secret, but when Therese’s grip strengthened, she knew it was of no use.    

Her limbs providing shelter, Therese became Carol’s armor against the accusations that preyed on her weakness. “You can be you,” Therese whispered. “Whatever you are at any given time.” For everything that was frail, she was solid.  “I will not want anything you don’t want to give.” The firm grip was as ready to shield as it was prepared to let go. “Nor will anyone else.”     

Carol inhaled, and the air that filled her lungs was fresh and fair. Her breathing relaxed, improved, and with it her countenance.

* * *

The fickle night of early spring drove all the children, both great and small, inside. Stumbling into the living room, no one appeared to notice anything extraordinary in the cozy scene that greeted them. Carrying sleeping Etta on his shoulder, Jack sat down on the couch next to Carol. To make room, Therese swung her feet to the floor, but Carol remained right beside her anyway. Not even Lou’s climbing onto Therese’s lap interfered with their gentle ear for one another. Yawning, the little boy was quiet and docile. Exhausted by Bob’s rowdy scavenger hunt, his bright copper head flopped drowsily against Therese’s collarbone.       

Rose and Gen prepared the mattresses on the floor, ready to move the kids there when needed. Mickey clung listlessly to the side of Gen’s skirt, teetering on the brink of slumber. Dannie slouched in the easy chair, Dusty a curled-up little monkey in his arms. The hot buttered rum Bob had whipped up smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg and caramel apple. Its sweet aroma eddying around the steamy mugs, Carol blew into her hot cocoa and wished for another occasion when she could enjoy a grown-up drink herself.     

 “I think it’s my turn,” Carly said, getting up from her easy chair. She smoothed the creases on her pants she had managed to save from their red ruin.

“You have a talent, Mom?” Cass asked a bit too surprised. Used to her father’s guitar solos, she wasn’t at all prepared to see her mother perform.

“Thanks, honey,” Carly snarled. “I’m not as clueless as you seem to think.” Scoffing at her daughter’s belittling question, she went to fetch a deck of playing cards. “I’m going to do a card trick,” Carly explained. She covered a small coffee table with a green cloth and shuffled the deck. “Okay, Cass, pick a card and show it to the others but not me.” Cass did as she was told. _A queen of hearts_. She put it on top of one of the three piles Carly had dealt on the table.

“And now I shuffle all the piles together again,” Carly said, picking up the three separate stacks between her palms. Moving forward, Abby was paying very close attention to her sleight of hand.

“Can I see your sleeves?” Abby demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Sure,” Carly replied, setting down the deck and showing what was hiding under her cuffs. _Nothing_.  “Happy now?” she asked Abby cockily.

“Hmmph…” Abby acquiesced to mutter. Forever suspicious, she was certain she could pick up Carly’s eventual misdirection.

Carly cut the deck and showed the bottom card to Cass. “Was it the jack of spades?” she asked innocently. Frowning, Cass seemed disappointed. “No?” Carly inquired, feigning utter surprise. “Well, what was it then?” she wanted to know, looking at her daughter.

“What’s the point of her telling it to you?” Abby questioned with some miff.

“Shut the fff… umm, give it a rest, Gerhard,” Carly warned, “and let the girl do what her mama tells her.” Turning away from her tormentor, she smiled tenderly at Cass. “What was your card, sweetie?”

Disheartened, Cass sighed. “A queen of hearts.” She folded her arms and tilted her head slightly backwards, not unlike her mother when she was fed up with something.        

“You know what, Cassie…” Carly started slowly. “I bet your nimble-fingered mother can find it just by spelling the name of your card while dealing them on the table.” She proceeded to say the letters, completing each one with a new card. “…R, T, S!” The last one on top turned out to be the desired red queen.

“How did you do that!?” Cass exclaimed, taking turns at staring at both Carly and the card. Abby grabbed the deck and examined it carefully.

“Magic, sweetie,” Carly winked at her. “Sheer magic.” She mussed her daughter’s flaxen hair and resumed her post in the plush chair.  

“Impressive, _very_ impressive,” Bob complimented Carly. “Who’s next?” he wondered, spinning around his axis like a cumbersome top running out of steam. His eyes fixed on Carol. “ _Your_ turn,” he decided, grinning victoriously.

“Dad,” Therese started, her left hand touching Carol’s shoulder to put her mind at ease. “She doesn’t have to...” Her palm remained on its place.

“I _want_ to,” Carol said, surprising first and foremost herself. “I do have a talent… of sorts,” she smiled. “I can’t play an instrument or perform any tricks, but I do know one thing and it has to do with my studies at Vassar.” It was too late to retreat now, she understood.

“I’m intrigued!” Bob rubbed her big hands excitedly together. “What did you study?” Only now it occurred to Therese that she didn’t know it either.

“Drama,” Carol said. “With a minor in English Literature.” Without realizing it, she had stood up and walked over to where Carly’s card table had been only a moment ago.

“EXCELLENT!” Bob thundered, causing Lou to stir in his sleep as he nuzzled against Therese’s chest. “How do we go about with this?” Bob asked, pulling Rose to sit on his knee.

“Well, you ask me a question – anything you want – and I give you a lucid answer within five seconds,” Carol explained.

Everyone, Therese included, looked as if they must have misunderstood something. “Umm… what does this have to do with your studies?” Phil asked, voicing the question on everybody’s lips.

“I will only answer you with a Shakespeare quote,” Carol specified. She had enough flair for dramatics to make her audience wait for the punch line. The surprise on Therese’s face turned into a wide, delighted grin, which suffused Carol’s whole being with excitement.    

Bob could hardly sit still, but he had to because Rose didn’t appreciate being bounced on his knee. “I go first!” he declared like an overeager child he so very much still was. “Hmm… what would you think if we’d wrap up this night with some gentle tunes?” Circling his arm tighter around Rose, Bob leaned forward to hear the answer. He got it immediately.   

>   _ **“If music be the food of love, play on.”** _

“Amazing… where’s it from?” Bob asked, tickled by the quick-fire quote.

“ _Twelfth Night_ , from the very beginning,” Carol smiled.

Sitting on the armrest of Abby’s chair, Gen caught Carol’s eye. “How would you describe this nitwit over here?” She patted Abby’s shoulder.

Beaming, Carol turned to look at Abby who couldn’t wait to hear her answer.  

> **"** _**Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.”** _

“Gee, thanks,” Abby chuckled, rolling her eyes at Carol. “Why am I not flattered by your take on my personality?” She tried to sound reproachful but her eyes had an amused glow.

“It was a compliment!” Carol defended herself. “It’s also from the _Twelfth Night_ , and it means that you’re funny and smart and that there isn’t a pretentious bone in your body, darling.”

“Let’s hear about the baby,” Rose intervened. “How do you feel about being pregnant?” she asked curiously.

Carol exhaled, bowing her head down for a brief second. When she raised it up again, another, more pensive smile had crept upon her face. “I might be jumping into wrong conclusions with the gender here, but humor me with a bit from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ …”

>   **“ _Though she be but little, she is fierce_.”**

The answer amused not only the listeners but also Carol herself.

Carly squirmed in her chair, indicating she had a question she wasn’t sure she should ask. Carol gave her an encouraging nod. “You lived a life, and you lost a life…” Carly started, hesitating. Therese shot a fierce look at her, fearing her sister had gone too far.

“Is this a question?” Carol asked, glancing at Therese to let her know she was alright.

Carly shrugged. “I’m not sure if I know how to turn it into one…”

“I’ll answer it anyway,” Carol said, looking at Therese. “It’s from the _Tempest_.”

> _**“What is past is prologue.”** _

Carly made a speedy comeback with a follow-up question. “What happens after prologue?”

“It depends on the drama,” Carol said demurely. “Maybe a _peripeteia_ , a profound change from one state of things to its opposite; say, a woman in mourning stumbles onto what’s fiercely living…” She caught Therese’s eyes once more. “…which ultimately leads to _anagnorisis_ , to the sudden awareness of how things truly are – the woman is pregnant …  but I suppose you wanted the Shakespearean reply? This is from _Romeo and Juliet_.”

> **“ _It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves_.”**

Carol looked at Therese, wondering what went on behind her incessant yet inscrutable gaze. The perilous Milky Way seemed suddenly like a puny brook that needed no bridges or birds of any kind.

Abby interrupted her sudden stargazing. “How do you take a hold of your destiny then?” she asked mischievously.

Carol laughed, overwhelmed by what sprang up in her mind right away. She decided to stick with it. “How did the Bard put it in _Cymbeline_..?” she teased her audience.

> _**“Boldness be my friend.”** _

Bob smiled, and whenever he did, which was often, it seemed to wrap everything around it in its sweet embrace. “Theodore here seems to be busting out of her seams to ask a question …”

Carol was quick to add her take on Bob’s comment.

> _**"It is a wise father that knows his own child."** _

“From _The Merchant of Venice_ ,” she elaborated, seeing the quizzical eyes around her. Carol turned to Rose and Bob. “And there’s a line from _As You Like It_ , I feel compelled to say out loud, just looking at you two.”

> _**“The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.”** _

Rose leaned her head against Bob’s shoulder, and the lovely smile she granted Carol reminded Carol of Therese.

“Did you have a question for me?” Carol asked Therese, encouraged by Bob’s earlier remark.

“Maybe.” Therese wrapped her arms tighter around sleeping Lou, her human shield.

“You can ask me anything.” Carol felt her heart pick up speed, to leap forward and expand its surprisingly spacious chambers. It ballooned out of the titillating prospect of being asked something _important_ she couldn’t even imagine yet, and although the time and the place and all the lovely people around them didn’t make the moment most ideal, she held her breath and waited.

“Okay then,” Therese mumbled self-consciously. “This is like a job interview question…” she continued nervously. The blood-red balloon forced Carol to seek support from the back of Phil’s chair. “Where do you see yourself five years from now?”      

Carol swallowed, hoping to push the bold, brave beating back where it belonged. But her mouth kept opening, her lips forming words. Five seconds passed, and another five or fifty got caught in flight, meaning nothing. “This is from _Henry VI_ …” she uttered, yet dared not to continue right away. The verse her religious grandmother had repeatedly cited sprung up in her memory – _for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh_. It made perfect sense now.

Carol abandoned her cowardice and looked up. She turned to face the one who waited for her answer.  

> **_“I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap."_ **


	24. The Weekend, Part 3/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the oh-so-bloody-romantic Scotch Plains and soon entering the final acts of this passion play...

_ She’s in love with me _ . Transfixed, Therese sat on the couch, the sleeping boy a needed sandbag to keep her from floating up in the air. She looked at Carol as she made her way back to the couch and sat next to her. Their shoulders touching, Carol glanced at Therese cautiously to decide if what she had just stated had been good or too much. 

Therese wasn’t calm nor did she attempt to be. How could she have faked something that had no chance of being even skin-deep? Every follicle of hair in her body had stood up in salute, every muscle in her lower back flexing, sending shivers across her skin like swarms of tiny critters up her spine. She reciprocated Carol’s look with such intense warmth it lit her eyes and colored her smile with dazzling certainty.

The sudden inability to hear what others were saying, what they meant with the words composed of curious, rough-hewn letters amused Therese, for she could only sense the hand on her left seeking hers. The fingers sliding between her fingers, filling in the blanks so easily, she was overwhelmed by such a simple solution to a problem she had deemed complex. 

Then the joy, waking up to the merriment within her as well as others, their connection feeding the good mood, maintaining it, while gently wishing the others away. The looks on the familiar faces, the surprising tact they demonstrated before the stupendous unknown Therese faced.  _ You’re on your own _ , they seemed to be saying,  _ it is up to you now _ . And Therese knew it was so, that it had to be so, though it wasn’t only her but the two of them together.  

Carol had come into her life like a meteorite that strikes a numb ground. How fitting that it had happened because of the observatory, because of Carol’s wish to see the realm beyond what was obvious and Therese’s fine-tuning the instruments for the very act. The impact, the sweet violence, had shattered Therese’s foundations, devastated her preconceived ideas of how life and love could coexist, if they could coexist at all.

_ Life holds the promise, but the promise is conditional - the ‘if’ in the middle of the word _ , she mused,  _ the ‘if’ that implies acuity and action _ . If she were to adopt a more understanding heart, maybe love would come to mean more than mere spurts of endorphin release. She was willing to find out.     

_ Now begins the part all songs are made of _ , Therese smiled to herself. The first act after the prologue where the soliloquies turn into a dialogue, and all the stone gods once thought of as clichés rise up and abandon their exile. How they reassemble from between the layers of collective consciousness, the silly and the sincere, the gorgeous and the cagey, to ring true once more after the disappointing discordance. The curtain was lifted for the first act, the first of many, extending over years or even a lifetime, should she be so lucky.        

Yet it was too early to think in those terms, and in a way it would always be too early, too presumptuous to assume life a flume that would sweep them along toward a serene sunset. This was the moment to be breathless and giddy, to become foolishly young again; to be a girl for just a while before reclaiming what was sensuously female.    

It was the heartbeat of invariable adoration, of finding the other perfect in speech and bearing.  _ The tunnel vision of love at its early stages _ . Therese recalled the crushes she had had while at school, how she had gone out of her way to make herself more appealing to the object of her interest. How futile it had all been, she had realized, watching the same girl fawn over some stupid boy a bit later.  _ It had to click right away or not at all _ , Therese thought, even though she did recognize the weakness of her argument. For her, it was the undeniable truth. It had happened with Carol, and it only served to prove her point, the one she saw no reason to question.

Gen picked up the sleeping boy from Therese’s arms, allowing Carol to nestle closer. The subtle move drew out the fervor in Therese, the wish to rush forward and madly greet what was taking its time. But she curbed her enthusiasm out of respect and because of her promise. She wouldn’t demand a thing or purposefully expect anything. She would give Carol time, all the time in the world if she so desired.

Soon it was late, and the tunes from Bob’s quiet guitar dwindled out one by one until there were none. Rose cleared the last cups away and glanced at her daughter. What it signified, Therese wasn’t sure, but maybe it served to remind her of what she had decided for herself already. Bravely she met her mother’s eyes that mellowed into kind contentment.  

Abby and Gen traipsed upstairs, yawning as they bid their goodnights. Dannie picked up a pillow and a blanket but dared not to ask Therese and Carol to move away from his pad for the night. Only after Carly and Jack had retired to Therese’s old room, was Bob brave enough to address the situation.

“Okay, let’s leave the kids in peace and poor Dannie also,” he whispered. The youngsters lay in sleep side by side on the floor, a few small feet sticking out from under the covers. Carol got up and stretched her back, her fingers fidgeting as if eager to reconnect with the hand that had held them. Therese rose from her place, not certain what she should do. Her movements clumsy and hesitating, she chose not to delve inside her confusion.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Bob asked Therese, hardly able to suppress his amusement. “Go to the attic. You can brush your teeth by the sink in the corridor.” Dumbstruck, Therese stared at her father, then at Carol who looked just as surprised as she was.

“Oh … okay,” Therese mumbled, embarrassed by the flush creeping onto her face. “Umm … good night,” she muttered, confused by the turn of events. “Feel free to wake me up as early as you like,” she said to her father but looked at Carol. Reluctantly she did what Bob had told her, glancing at Carol one more time from the foot of the stairs.

* * *

Hearing Therese’s footsteps climb up all the way to the attic, Carol couldn’t believe what had just happened. She hovered by the living room doorway, too puzzled to make the necessary effort to retire to the den.

“I very much enjoyed your talent,” Bob said quietly, interrupting her uneasy contemplation. “May I share something with you before you go to bed?” Drawing an anguished breath, Carol nodded. Bob picked up a leather-bound volume from the bookcase and browsed through it for the right page. “This is her favorite poem ...” Astonished, Carol took the book Bob held out to her and read the poem in silence.  

 

> _ Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, _
> 
> _ Enwrought with golden and silver light, _
> 
> _ The blue and the dim and the dark cloths _
> 
> _ Of night and light and the half-light, _
> 
> _ I would spread the cloths under your feet: _
> 
> _ But I, being poor, have only my dreams; _
> 
> _ I have spread my dreams under your feet; _
> 
> _ Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. _

Carol looked up at Bob who had paid close attention to her serious reading. “She is my beautiful boy … ” Bob said, smiling wistfully. 

Hearing his words, Rose stopped by the kitchen door. “Bob … ”

Bob closed his eyes momentarily before giving in to a wide grin. “I know, I know.” He passed Carol by, patting her shoulder lightly. Before he followed Rose into their bedroom, he turned around one more time in the dim hall. “Carol … ” he said. Shaken by what had just transpired, Carol gave him a look of a thousand words she couldn’t form into sentences. “Two flights up, the second door on the left.” He winked at Carol and disappeared out of her sight.

* * *

Therese lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. She wasn’t disappointed, only stunned, not having had the chance to spend a single moment alone with Carol after her lovely confession. The small skylight loomed on her right but only because she knew it was there. The night behind the glass square afforded no extra luminance to the blinding light she had known downstairs.  _ Tomorrow _ , Therese consoled herself right before she heard the door open.   

A figure stood in the doorway, a welcome presence if there ever was one. No sextant was needed to measure the angles of this heavenly body, and it seemed to know how to navigate its way to Therese all on its own.

Carol sat down on the bed, her eyes adapting to night vision. It took too long a time. “Turn the light on,” she said. Therese reached for the switch on the little desk lamp on the nightstand. The warm, yellow halo illuminated her face and the bed they shared. “Come here,” Carol whispered again. Therese nudged toward her. “Closer.” Therese closed the gap.

“I will kiss you now.” Carol’s voice was steady, and she smiled at Therese whose lips parted to breathe, to give and to receive. The quaint room was still, its slanted ceiling low above two heads ascending to meet. Carol’s hand eased gently behind Therese’s neck, smoothing the skin, the shy cheekbone before it found its haven. Then, the lightest of touches followed, the tip of a lip, to engage and to enthrall with what was just a prelude, a prologue of another kind.

This was the last test. The fire of the first kiss to reveal if what they had suspected was true and worthy and more. The contact sparked a spectacle of stellar proportions, rendering them dizzy with joy and relief. Therese felt how it pulsed through, the hit of their embrace disarming her, magnifying what she ached to have. The kiss intensified, morphed into a prolonged play between two impatient bodies, never breaking nor ceasing once it had started for real.

“Wait …” Therese gasped between breaths, surmising they might be moving too fast. Where she got the strength to speak, she didn’t know, for as soon as she had said it, she regretted it.

“I don’t want to,” Carol exhaled, too busy to give such an absurd notion a second thought.

“It’s just that … when we … ” Therese forced herself to say. She had to know that what was happening was supposed to happen right now.

Abandoning her sweet toil, Carol put her finger on Therese’s lips to prevent her from saying another word. “ _ This _ … is the first time,” Carol said, catching her breath. She gazed at Therese, gravely imprinting the words in her mind. A sly smile flickered onto her lips. “Not that I didn’t enjoy what happened earlier.” She smirked, breaking into a wide grin.

“You did, didn’t you?” Therese mocked her with a smile. Had there been anything to forgive in the first place, it was readily forgotten.

“Oh, shut up …” Carol laughed, resuming her pleasure. It was her turn now, and she wasn’t going to waste another second. 

* * *

The next morning Abby and Gen helped Rose with the breakfast. The kids along with Dannie and Phil ravaging the food like locusts, the trio of women resembled a team of short order cooks. Only Lou seemed slightly less focused on what was on his plate than others.

“Aunt Carol wasn’t in the den when I went to get the juice,” he grumbled to his overworked mothers.

The corners of Abby’s mouth twitched barely noticeably. “Maybe she got up before we did and went for a walk?” she attempted to explain.

“Aunt Carol is in the attic.” Lou shot Abby’s theory down once and for all.

“You’re not to go upstairs, sweetie,” Gen reminded him. Glancing at Rose, Gen was surprised to see just how tickled she was.

“I didn’t go upstairs,” Lou said defensively. “But I heard her crying.” Dannie’s shoulders jerked forward as he nearly choked on his pancake. Bob turned his back on Lou and feigned interest in an imaginary bird that had just flown by the window.       

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Abby coughed, avoiding looking at other grown-ups. “If she has felt the need to cry, I’m sure your new friend Therese has taken care of her.” A sound resembling a muffled yowl emanated from where Gen was standing.

“They’re kissing,” Cass informed her sullen friend. “And they cry because they don’t have any clothes on.” She looked around the table to make sure the younger ones were equally enlightened. “Mom cries like that all the time.”

Taken totally by surprise, Carly spewed her coffee on the front of her knit sweater. “Goddammit!” she wailed, seeing the brown spots spread over the ivory cotton. But it did serve as an effective distraction as well. Fascinated by the sudden fuss, Lou forgot the perturbing sounds for the time being.

* * *

Bob and Jack had taken the kids out when Carol and Therese finally showed their faces downstairs. “Anything left to eat?” Therese asked, poking her head inside the refrigerator.

Her hands leisurely behind her head, Abby lounged in the easy chair. She had waited for this moment for quite some time. “You tell me,” she quipped, only to notice Gen’s disapproving glance. “What? She’s rummaging the fridge, she can see for herself.” Gen quirked her eyebrows at her, signalling she wasn’t at all convinced of the innocence of Abby’s remark.

“I can fix you something,” Rose offered, setting two plates on the table. She beamed at her daughter’s evident pleasure, giving Therese a quick peck on the cheek as she went to put the pan on the stove.

In any other circumstances Carol might have objected to Rose’s returning to the kitchen duty for her sake, but not today. She was drowsy yet not listless, for the ache Carol knew in the fibers of her body seemed to connect to a continuous smile lighting her face. She blushed before Abby’s knowing grin, but it didn’t make her uncomfortable in the least. When Therese leaned in to kiss Carol before sitting next to her at the table, Carol didn’t hold back.  

“I remember that.” Abby sighed long and hard. “It was nice.” She patted the armrest and winked at Gen whom she knew was wondering whether to take her observation personally or not. “Take a load off, sexy.” Abby smiled at Gen, appeasing her the best way she could think of.

* * *

The sweet aftermath, ongoing and never weakening, enveloped the lovers as the wishes and the intentions, the bold words becoming vibrant flesh always do. No one minded their absence from lunch or from kids’ snack time, except maybe Lou who was worried about aunt Carol’s, and subsequently Therese’s, fluctuating states of minds.

Every time they joined the others, faintly apologetic of their unsociable behavior, Lou sought Therese’s company and did his best to be a good sport to ‘lift her spirits’. He was smart and attentive, Therese thought as she mussed up his red curls affectionately. With him clinging to her like a freckled koala, she came to think of another child, the little but fierce one Carol was carrying.

In bed, Therese had at times been palpably aware of the baby, but once she had come to terms with the idea, she had grown curious of the tiny creature. Carol’s belly was taut, with no outward signs of her pregnancy. Therese remembered how unassuming Carly’s bump had been while expecting Cass, so she didn’t think more of it. Still, when she kissed Carol’s lower abdomen, she imagined kissing the baby, too.  

“How do you feel about it?” Carol had asked her later that afternoon, enjoying the attention Therese was giving to the growth inside her.

“She will be beautiful.” Therese moved upward to prove the sincerity of her sentiment. It was welcome yet unnecessary, for the phrase she had chosen sank into Carol’s heart like an anchor that stopped what was left of the nervous flutter of fear and anxiety.

“An old woman said the very same thing to me the night I met you,” Carol said. Seeing the curiosity in Therese’s eyes, she continued. “Funny you should say it now …” she muttered. “I thought she meant you.”

Therese beamed at Carol, her hand tracing back to the secret hiding place. “I don’t know why I keep thinking it’s a girl,” she said. “It won’t make any difference one way or another.” Therese meant what she said, and it wasn’t only the gender she was referring to. The baby wouldn’t make a difference so much as change the entire world Therese had come to know. She was as ready as she could ever be, she thought, and it would have to suffice.  

* * *

On Sunday afternoon, Carol packed the things she had moved to the small attic room. Therese was downstairs, keeping the children busy while their parents were busy loading the cars for the trip back home.

Carol looked at the bed she assumed to be still warm.  _ How could it ever cool down? _ she mused, smiling.  _ A rhetorical question, for now _ . Opening the door, she lingered on the threshold and memorized the confines of their passion play. 

 

> _ ‘Tis the moment replete with humble pleasure _
> 
> _ Before we go and seek another stage _
> 
> _ This bliss, this perfect ache I shall treasure _
> 
> _ As we thrive to turn another page _
> 
>  
> 
> _ To fumble with lines, I fear, I must _
> 
> _ Lacking eloquence, panache and love’s splendid wit  _
> 
> _ Imperfect words aside, my sweet, always trust _
> 
> _ This ardent devotion in my eyes writ      _


	25. Path of Totality

> _Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,_
> 
> _In that the world's contracted thus._
> 
> _Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be_
> 
> _To warm the world, that's done in warming us._
> 
> _Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;_
> 
> _This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere._
> 
>  
> 
> _\-- John Donne: The Sun Rising (fragment)_

 

* * *

_Late May_

 

“You’re showing.” Her hand moving gently across Carol’s belly, Therese confirmed what Carol had suspected for a few days. The bump was subtle but still distinguishable to a trained eye, to someone who had taken the time to learn the curves and the contours of the body in question.  

“Yes.” Carol’s smile was pleased yet slightly self-conscious. So far the baby had been hardly more than an inkling, a seed that had been planted, but now it was making itself known far more tangibly. She was happy about it, but apprehensive of Therese’s thoughts, of if and how the changes in her would affect what had only just begun.

“We need to get you bigger clothes,” Therese grinned. “Your breasts are … umm … well, rather remarkable, and I don’t think you’ll be comfortable in those jeans for long either.”

Amused, Carol gave Therese a queer look. “My breasts are _remarkable?_ Meaning they’re huge, is that it?” she asked curiously.

“It is a seriously good thing,” Therese hastened to explain. “You look amazing. These changes are friggin’ awesome,” she rambled on.

“So was there something wrong with the way I looked before?” Carol asked, teasing her shamelessly.

“No. No! Of course not,” Therese exclaimed in her defense. Glancing at Carol put her mind at ease though. “Oh … fuck you,“ she laughed, having noticed the smirk on Carol’s face. “Here I am trying to compliment you, and all you do is give me hard time.” Defiant, Therese rolled gently on top of Carol and demanded full surrender.

“We have so little time for just the two of us,” Carol spoke, enjoying her helpless state. The words she uttered painted the truth she had been harboring since the weekend in Scotch Plains. How it was possible to be both elated by what was happening inside of her and terrified by its weight on the relationship still at its early stages she didn’t know. “I wish we’d have more.”

The look on Therese’s face told Carol she must have also thought about it, and it kept her silent for a while. “I know, and I won’t deny feeling the same way,” Therese said. “But this is what is happening and what is us. What will be us.” She paused to sweep aside the reckless hairs from Carol’s temples. “Ours won’t be the first shotgun wedding,” she quipped, winking at Carol.         

“Shotgun wedding?!?” Carol’s eyes flared of amused disbelief. “God, how _awfully_ romantic you make it sound like … “ Scoffing, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Therese.

“No, hear me out. I’m serious.” Therese did look grave all of a sudden. “I’m in it with you.” She made sure Carol quit chuckling. “I intend to be in it with you. _If_ you let me.” Holding her breath, Carol stared at the sharp green eyes so focused on hers. “This baby is a fact of my life as much as it is yours. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you need to. Very soon.”   

Carol acquiesced to nod, overwhelmed by Therese’s conviction. She knew what she wanted, and that one thing was presently pinning her down onto the mattress.  

_It was then when Carol thought about it for the first time._

* * *

After the weekend in Scotch Plains, it had no longer been a question if and when Carol and Therese would get together. It had become a question of how to be apart at all, even if they hadn’t addressed it directly. Therese had followed Carol to Manhattan, the Jeep tailing the Audi all the way to Carol’s home. The Jeep had remained parked in Carol’s driveway for several days, time having lost all relevance within the walls its round headlights had insistently gawked at.

“Am I making you neglect your studies?” Carol had asked on the fourth day.  

“You are making me very happy.” Therese’s reply had been sweet and definitely evasive.

“Therese … “ Carol had said, trying to maintain her concentration despite Therese’s attempt to interfere with it the best she could. “You’re off to a promising start, and I don’t want you to spoil it.”

“I’d say _this_ is a promising start … “ Therese had murmured, focusing on the distraction she had hoped to spoil Carol with.

“Therese … “ Carol had gasped, all too aware of her own pending weakness. “What would your study advisor say if she were here right now?”

Therese’s reply had been a resounding giggle. “I’m hoping she’d avert her eyes and leave the room.” She had grown more serious though, having seen Carol quirk her eyebrow. “You’re right … and I hate it,” she had admitted. “I just don’t want to let go of you. Not just yet.” She had looked stubborn and unwilling to co-operate, which Carol had found endearing.

“Planning to let go of me?” Carol had questioned, smiling. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy, since I intend to accompany you to Poughkeepsie.” Scrutinizing, she had gazed at Therese. “If that’s all right with you?”

Therese’s eyes had lit up. “Yes!” she had exclaimed, happily taken aback by Carol’s determination. “Of course!”

Carol had no intention of letting Therese slack off on her account. She wanted to be there for her now that the academic year was at its closure, and she needed to make sure that Therese would pull her own weight in this one issue that mattered in the long run.

Their spring was turning into a lovely summer as it inevitably does. The sun at its zenith, who can keep the light from flooding every corner of every room? Carol had wondered. But what happens if the door is opened too hastily to such bright luminance? Do we stay blinded by the overwhelming rays, unable to get past that first impression, the sensation of having been rendered defenseless by its relentless focus? _We should not_ , she had decided for the both of them. _And the eyes adjust to light surprisingly fast. Maybe too fast._

* * *

“I can’t sleep … “ Carol groaned one late evening in July. It had been a hot day, and the evening hadn’t offered much relief to her steady discomfort. Despite the air conditioning, she found lying in bed intolerable. Her constant fidgeting and moving around in search for a better position had succeeded in keeping Therese awake as well.

“We won’t sleep then.” Therese’s solution was practical, even if they were both tired and weary after a trying day. She propped a couple of pillows against the headboard and urged Carol lean against them while she turned the tv on. “Let’s hope we can catch a movie,“ Therese decided, flicking through channels.

>    _“ ... I want for my people security and happiness. I want to cultivate the arts of peace. The arts of life! I want peace, and peace I will have … “_

“Great, it has only just begun!” Therese enthused.

“What is this?” Carol asked, yawning.

“ _Queen Christina_.” Therese was too busy to elaborate just yet.

“At least it has snow,” Carol noted, still bothered by her own inner heat.

“Shh … Garbo’s about to kiss her lady-in-waiting … “ Therese whispered. “A great moment in lesbian film history.” Her voice was almost reverent.

“Well, that was - oddly unsatisfying … “ Carol commented after the brief scene.

“It’s 1933, ” Therese laughed. “She kissed her on the lips. Cut her some slack, will ya?”

>   _“Snow again. Eternal snow.”_

“Loving the cold weather … “ Carol murmured despite Therese’s feeble attempt to tickle her into silence.

>   _Chancellor: “There are rumors that your Majesty is planning a foreign marriage.”_
> 
> _Queen Christina: “They are baseless.”_
> 
> _Chancellor: “But your Majesty, you cannot die an old maid.”_
> 
> _Queen Christina_ _: “I have no intention to, Chancellor. I shall die a bachelor!”_

Therese stated the last line out loud along with Garbo to Carol’s amusement. “Something tells me you’ve seen this movie a couple of times … “ she chuckled.

“Yeah. A couple.” Therese grinned at Carol, wrapping her arm tighter around her.

>   _“One can feel nostalgia for places one has never seen.”_

Carol leaned her head against Therese’s chest, thinking of what Garbo had just said. “How often do you think about your father?” she asked out of the blue.

“Sometimes. Usually when I happen to read something I know he had enjoyed.” Therese looked at Carol, curious to find out what had prompted the question in the first place.

“Do you miss him? Having him in your life?” Carol wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had him in my life, so maybe the sense of loss I’ve felt at times is nothing more than some form of false nostalgia.”  

>   _Antonio: A great love has to be nourished, has to be..._
> 
> _Queen Christina: Great love?_
> 
> _Antonio: Don't you believe in its possibility?_
> 
> _Queen Christina: In its possibility, yes, but not in its existence. A great love, perfect love, is an illusion. It is the golden fable of which we all dream. But in ordinary life, it does not happen. In ordinary life, one must be content with less._
> 
> _Antonio: So young and yet so disillusioned. Young man, you are cynical._
> 
> _Queen Christina: Not at all. Merely realistic._

“He’s actually buying her handsome youth act,” Carol couldn’t help but comment, watching John Gilbert fawn over Garbo dressed in male attire.

“She _is_ a beautiful boy, isn’t she?” Therese pointed out. Carol found her remark very funny for a reason. “What?”

“Nothing.” Carol preferred to keep her memory to herself.

> _“I have been memorizing this room. In the future, in my memory, I shall live a great deal in this room.”_

Carol thought about the little room in the attic and the one they were presently in.

>   _\- She'll be on the boat. If the tide is full and the wind is with us, we'll sail._
> 
> _\- And she'll go with us?_
> 
> _\- Yes._
> 
> _\- Where to?_
> 
> _\- The islands of the moon._

The movie ended, and it left them both in a rather wistful mood. Therese was the first to break its spell by getting up and fetching a book Carol hadn’t seen before.  

“I think of my father, and I’m sad his life had to end so early on,” Therese said.  “He was, by all accounts, a wonderful man, and I’d like to think his genes have affected me favorably. Something of him lives on in me.” She looked at Carol, understanding not only what Carol’s question had been about but also what her reply might mean at this given time.

Therese focused on the book she had kept closed up till now. “This book always opens to this page … “ She handed it to Carol to read the underlined beginning of a poem.

>   _To see a World in a Grain of Sand_
> 
> _And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,_
> 
> _Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand_
> 
> _And Eternity in an hour._

“He was a loving man, an infuriating man at times - well, just a man.” Therese sighed. “I know all I can know about him by what my mother has told me, yet every time when my thoughts wander over to him, I tend to revert to these verses.”

“Were they of particular importance to him?” Carol asked, rereading the marked passage.

“That’s just it,” Therese said. “I have no idea. Rose will be the first to tell you he was no William Blake! But I’ve chosen to believe it to be so. I guess it’s important to _me_ . He’s been dead for nearly three decades, and what is dead remains - _dead_.” She gazed at Carol, hoping her words would make sense.

“I see his handwriting, his scribbles, and I think of them as light from a dead star. He didn’t know I would be studying his notes any more than a star knows we are here to see its glow long after it’s gone. They are musings from the past, the bright glimpses of his intellect I’m grateful to have. Yet they tell so little if anything at all.” Therese slid down on the bed and stretched her limbs as if to better ground herself with what was underneath.        

“Blood is a loose tie, so lacking when we think of life and how we grow up to become who we are supposed to be,” she said. “The ideals I’ve chosen to attach to someone I’ve never met are, in the end, selfish and rightfully so. They have served their purpose and ultimately freed me to appreciate what’s real and accessible.” Therese pulled Carol in her arms and held her as close as she could. “Life is ephemeral. I choose to celebrate what I have, and I have so much. Right now.”     

* * *

_Late July_

 

“Do we need to take something else with us?” Therese was not only impatient to get going, she was fidgety as hell.

“I’ve got everything … Relax, _please_.” Carol tried not to smile too broadly at Therese’s constant hovering. Not that she wasn’t excited herself, but Therese’s input was just a bit excessive at the moment. “Umm … “ Carol grabbed her stomach, wrinkling her brow.

“What is it?” Therese asked nervously.

“It’s nothing, the baby’s just reminding me of its existence.” Carol had not yet gotten used to the tiny spitfire that had started moving around and twitching its limbs. “Let’s go so we won’t be late.”

Therese opened the door, and helped Carol into the car as if she were about to give birth any second. Still, they were only on their way to the ultrasound at the medical center.

It was the first time Therese saw the baby, although she had felt its kicks and seen the outlines of its bottom flex the skin of Carol’s belly for a few weeks now. _Giger_ , Therese had nicknamed it according to _Alien_ ’s creator. Wide-eyed and bewildered, she was now sitting next to Carol who had laid down onto the operating table. When the scan image formed on the screen, Therese squeezed Carol’s hand so fiercely, Carol wondered who was supporting whom during the examination.

“Everything appears to be normal, nothing out of the ordinary … “ Dr. Phillips explained as she went about moving the wand over Carol’s belly. Therese stared at the screen, unable to get her eyes off the fuzzy image of something resembling a plump, grey banana with a big head, arms and legs. “How are you doing otherwise?” the doctor asked.

“She’s only gained about ten pounds,” Therese blurted out. “And I’m not sure if she’s getting enough iron.” Stunned, Carol glanced at her but didn’t say a word. “She’s also started snoring … like a sawmill.” Hearing this, Carol’s eyebrows jumped up in astonishment.

“Red meat, poultry, legumes, put them on her menu.” Dr. Phillips aimed her words directly at Therese. “Spinach, prune juice, raisins … and there are several iron-fortified breakfast cereals around.” This time Carol stared at doctor Phillips, still speechless.

“She’s a picky eater these days,” Therese stated, still gawking at the black-and-white blur.            

“It’s the estrogen that affects the membranes in the nose and causes the snoring. Make her sleep on her side and remember to elevate her head just a bit, okay?” Dr. Phillips instructed Therese.

 _What. Is. This._ Carol was both amused and somewhat perturbed by the way both her doctor and Therese chose to leave her out of the conversation. “Umm … “ she started out slowly.

“She’s a really restless sleeper,” Therese added, not noticing Carol’s opening.

“A pillow between the legs can help out in finding a comfortable position,” the doctor elaborated. “Adjust the temperature in the bedroom, keep it cool. And I would suggest you make the moment of falling asleep as pleasurable as possible … sex is good.”

“Ahem … HELLO!” Carol interrupted, not willing to let the conversation meander any further. Both Therese and Dr. Phillips seemed only just now to awaken to her presence.      

“You started your pregnancy underweight so you’ll have to gain more,” Dr. Phillips spoke without missing a beat. Nodding somberly, Therese confirmed every single word Carol’s physician had stated.

“I know that … and I will,” Carol acknowledged, flustered. She had so much to say but presently she couldn’t think how to get it all out.

“Your body needs more iron because of the expanding blood volume, baby’s growth and the placenta,” Dr. Phillips stressed adamantly. “Have you read the leaflets I gave you? The study material?” She looked concerned.

“She hasn’t, but I have,” Therese quipped in-between. Dr. Phillips wore a visible frown.

“I have, too!” Carol hastened to object. The doctor didn’t seem all too convinced though.  

“No, you haven’t … “ Therese muttered under her breath, but it didn’t go unnoticed by either of the two women.

“Well, luckily your partner has,” Dr. Phillips smiled. “So you’d better listen to Therese and start paying attention.”

 _For fuck’s sake …_ Carol’s mind was whirling with snarky comebacks all of which she nevertheless deemed inappropriate.

“You’re well over halfway through your pregnancy, Carol, and you two may also want to start thinking about signing up for a childbirth class,” Dr. Phillips elaborated. “But now that we’re here, how about we take a 4D scan peek at the baby?”

No longer brooding, Carol looked at Therese who was equally delighted by the opportunity. “Can we find out the gender as well?” Carol asked her doctor who confirmed its possibility. They were dying to know it in advance.

“A perfect little girl.”

Dr. Phillips’ assessment was unnecessary, for they could both see it for themselves. Despite the waxy, yellow overtones of the 4D imagery, “Giger” became miraculously alive and real in Carol’s womb. Yawning, she looked relaxed, her tiny fingers performing intricate movements as if she were silently counting them in her solitude. Carol thought about the citrus and other similar parallels her doctor had drawn over the weeks of her expecting, and a part of her was almost surprised not to see herself literally bearing ‘fruit’. The girl’s eyes were closed but the features around them seemed charmingly sullen to her.    

Therese leaned forward to see each detail, the expression on her face reflecting astonishment and barely contained wonder. When Dr. Phillips gave them the recording of the scan, she held onto the disc so tightly Carol was afraid the plastic DVD cover would crack under her fingers.

* * *

_Mid August, 2017_

 

Therese sat huddled over the kitchen island covered with printouts, maps and magazines. The copious amounts of paper almost sliding onto the floor were a distressing sight for Carol who had had a hard time enough adjusting to the renovation job Bob had seen through with the help of Jack, Dannie and Phil.

The men had spent what had seemed an eternity to Carol scraping off the unwanted wallpaper, covering the surfaces with joint compound and sanding them smooth afterwards. The paint job that had followed had been a gentle chore compared to the installations Bob had deemed necessary. The amount of dust brought about by the work had been staggering, the kind that not only invaded one’s clothes and skin but also remained stubbornly lodged in corners and crevices of the rooms.

Despite the discomfort, Carol had no complaints. She liked what they had come up with, even the old marble countertops having been replaced with red oak wood. “It’s nicer to fool around on a wooden surface,” Bob had pointed out, admiring his own handiwork. “Keep ‘em oiled, and they’ll last a lifetime.”

The entire house looked more vibrant, more organic, even though her feeling better about it had everything to do with Therese being there. She looked at Therese preoccupied with her various documents and enjoyed the sight.

Therese had officially moved in two weeks ago, her room in the commune having been packed in neat boxes soon after her academic year had come to an end. They hadn’t really talked about living together, it had just happened, and if it hadn’t been for the baby, it might not have taken place just yet.

The guest room had been turned into a nursery, the mauve walls repainted and the overall look decorated with a specific design Therese had stealthily put in place. She had worked on her creation for several days, prohibiting Carol from entering the room before it was ready.

Then one late evening she had taken Carol to the room with her eyes closed and only after turning off the lights, Therese had allowed Carol to see what she had done.  The ceiling had sparkled with countless glow-in-the-dark stars forming constellations and galaxies of wonder. Speechless, Carol had stood under their glitter, unable to express what it was that stirred her heart that very moment.

_And it was then when Carol thought about it for the second time._

* * *

“So are we going to aim at the greatest duration or at the greatest totality?” Therese asked, interrupting Carol’s train of thought. The smile on her face was mischievous.

“If I didn’t know what you’re talking about, this would lead to a very interesting conversation.” The map Therese was studying at the moment was a dead giveaway to Carol.

“You don’t find the total solar eclipse interesting?” Therese asked, pretending to be totally oblivious of her own innuendo.  

Carol dismissed the question with a slight shrug and a smile. “I’m going to let you decide, although there’s something to be said for stamina.”   

Therese grinned at Carol’s remark. “I’m happy to agree with you.” She pointed a spot on the map. “This is where we’ll be heading: 37º 34’ 4.3” North latitude, 89º 06’ 10.0” West longitude.”

“Illinois?” Carol traced the location on the map with her finger.

“Yup. The point of the longest eclipse, 2 minutes and 41.6 seconds, just southeast of Carbondale, at 1:20 p.m. on the August 21.” Therese had done her research well indeed. “Now we’ll just have to hope for clear skies … “

Pensive, Carol furrowed her brow. “What if it’s cloudy?”

Therese had an answer ready, of course. “We’ll hop on the Jeep and drive east or west to get rid of the clouds. Everything will be fine as long as we’ll stay within the path of totality.”

“Sounds positively Blakean - the path of totality!” Carol chuckled. “‘The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom’, huh?”  

“Well, then you’ll probably remember what else he said?” Therese said. “‘You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough’.” She winked at Carol. “The solar eclipse is overwhelming, and it is more than enough, but it has to be total. Otherwise it’s like bad sex - it kinda starts okay and seems to be getting there, but, alas, it fails to impress.”

“Now _we_ can’t have that, can we?” Carol laughed, finding the parallel very typically Therese.

“We most certainly can’t,” Therese pontificated humorously. “It’s all or nothing.”

* * *

Therese wanted to photograph the eclipse, that was a given, but she had been thoughtful enough to foresee Carol’s needs, too.  “I got you something.” She gave Carol a gift box with a pair of binoculars in it. “Now you’re all set to see the eclipse, the best way there is.” The binoculars came with special solar filters needed for the partial phases, she explained Carol. “When the totality hits, you need to take them off to really enjoy it, and you need to remember it yourself, since I will be busy with the camera.” Carol promised to take care of herself.

The weeks preceding their departure for Illinois, Therese had gone over her checklist again and again. She had decided the exposures she was going to use in advance as well as pre-focused her camera using the full moon as her target practice. Fresh batteries, solar filters, sun shades and whatnot had been amply stocked along with the jotted down lists of things to remember before and during their trip. Most of the time Therese seemed deep in thought, memorizing the sequence of her actions during the peak experience. Everything was tested _ad nauseam_.

When it was finally the time they were about to leave Manhattan, Therese stopped in the middle of her last minute preparations. She appeared a bit embarrassed. “Are you okay with this?” she asked Carol quietly. “I’ve been so preoccupied with this, I haven’t even thought of asking if you’re up to going … “ Slowly, she set her camera bag on the kitchen island. “It’s not like we _have to_.”  

Carol heard Therese and saw the sudden confusion in her eyes. She remembered Abby asking her, if she was looking forward to sleeping in a tent in some overcrowded campsite in the midst of late August heat. _The roles are cast very early on_ , Carol had mused. _The one who gets her wish, the other who yields all too easily; the one whose temper takes centerstage, the other who hides in passive aggression_. She wanted to recognize what was important to Therese, and this was essential indeed - beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Carol’s reply to Abby had been somewhat wry but determined. Yes, she was looking forward to getting uncomfortable on a thin camping mattress and being bitten by countless mosquitoes. Yes, she was looking forward to hours and hours of driving in the Jeep and stopping in drab diners along the way to eat less-than-inspired grub that was sure to give her heartburn.

Yes, she was looking forward to it more than she had looked forward to anything in her recent memory, because it meant so much to Therese. Because it meant they would be gazing straight at the sun together just like they had marvelled at the moon that one memorable night.

“I once asked you to keep an open mind, having just told you that we won’t be seeing each other,” Carol smiled at Therese. “Later on, when I thought you hesitated, you said ‘you wouldn’t miss it for the world’ … “ The fingers of her right hand brought out the silver pendant from under her shirt. “I wouldn’t miss this with you for the world, and I even get to keep my eyes open.”  

When Therese looked at her, no further words were needed. To see and to be seen, to understand and to be understood was all and more - it was more than enough.   

* * *

_August 21, 2017_

 

It was an early morning of nervous fluttering, of checking the weather forecast while trying to get over the insufficient sleep. Of gathering the things Carol hardly recognized but Therese needed absolutely. Of looking at the skies every so often as if afraid the sun would execute its disappearance against all expectations. The alarm had been set for six, and when it had jolted Carol awake, she had bravely fought against the crankiness her weariness so easily invited around.   

They weren’t camping out after all, and Carol was grateful for that. At the last minute, Therese had been able to secure a bed and breakfast in Makanda, Illinois, a small village of about 500 people. All they needed to do now was to set up their gear at a suitable field or a clearing, at some place unblocked by too prominent scenic features or too prone to sudden changes in weather by steep ground formations. Carol suspected it would take them several hours to find a location Therese would deem fit. Yes, she had her hat and the sunscreen, nothing to worry about, Carol calmed Therese. Even the binoculars. And the solar filters. _Sheesh_.

After all the fretting and weighing different options, Carol was surprised that they reached their final destination well in advance. Despite her anxiousness, Therese had done her homework and the place they ended up at was not only ideal for the sun gazing but also less populated than many other spots within the city limits. Still, a lot of people were around, Carbondale alone doubling its 25,000 inhabitants for the rare spectacle.  

The sun was up at its usual place, radiating heat of the high noon. The air was clear and the sky blue as far as the eye could travel, and knowing it made Therese hum an indistinct tune while setting up her camera and telescope on the tripod. When Carol saw other people approach, she wished them away, and maybe it was her sharp stare that made them heed to a polite distance as if a barrier, a safe zone, was being built between them and the rest of the population.  

It all began so unobtrusively, it seemed almost sacrilegious to Carol. There was no sign of the moon in the sky, it being so close to the sun it was as invisible as the stars during the day. Still, something had started to shave the sun away, a big black hole gradually overpowering what had been bright and glorious just a few moments before.

Carol heard the clicks of Therese’s camera all the way through the phases of the eclipse, but when the totality hit, she no longer heard them. In fact, she didn’t hear anything at all. No singing of the birds, no conversation, not even the wind though the temperature had dropped due to the obvious reason.

The sky didn’t go black as Carol had expected, its blue deepened and it became saturated and alien, resembling a twilight of some distant time and place neither one of them had ever expected to witness. The wreath of light around the rim of the moon cast a metallic, matte hue on their skin. When Carol glanced at Therese, her face was a mask of silver foreign to this world, to their era. The grass under Carol’s feet appeared to be made of blades of steel and platinum, yet it allowed her to walk over to Therese, to close the gap once and for all. It could have been them meeting centuries ago, Carol mused, taking her hand in hers. The abandoned shutter swung slowly in the light breeze, but if it made a sound bumping against the tripod, Carol didn’t register it.

Everything was odd, psychedelic, the eerie time machine of the greedy moon denying them of any familiarity with their warped surroundings. The moon had thinned itself into a sly lens cap, a black disk that ate away the energy, the core of all existence. They could not gaze at it without connecting with what must have been the fear ancient people when the sun had been turned into a hole in the sky. Only the corona fought against its extinction, the tiny ring of fire giving off slithery sparks.

It was easy to forget everything, to lose track of time and the sense of oneself, when something taken for granted ceased to exist. The heart beat faster, the scared little bird captured inside its bony cage. The stars were there, yet Carol couldn’t extract her eyes from the main event any more than a passerby can look away from a fatal accident. Two minutes of knowing what the world’s end must feel like is a long time, and she longed to have the colors return, to pump blood into what had become frail and devastated. The moon’s shadow rolling over, looming gigantic all too near, Carol took comfort in the warmth of Therese’s hand. Carol felt a squeeze, and it wasn’t fearful at all.

Then the Baily’s beads, the instant when the moon’s rugged surface allowed the sun’s light shine through in some places but not in others, came to their rescue, signaling the end of the totality. Relieved, they had recognized the diamond ring when only one reckless bead had lit up the lunar silhouette. It had trumpeted the steady revival of the triumphant sun no mortal could any longer gaze at with the naked eye. Instead they gazed at each other, overwhelmed by the enormity of the experience and disarmed by its awesome beauty.

Carol kissed Therese while the world came back alive, and it was on that very moment when she thought about it for the third time. Since it was right and strong and true, she didn’t keep it to herself. Carol told Therese that she loved her.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Sun Rising_ by John Donne in its entirety:
> 
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/core-poems/detail/44129


	26. We Are Made Of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, thank you for reading. This chapter may not be totally accurate in its description of what happens in a hospital in NYC, but I have deliberately written it to be something else. Through this chapter I am in fact sharing with you what happened to me and what went through my mind some years ago. 
> 
> As always, I've been so grateful for your support along this journey. <3
> 
> You may also like to listen to Moby after/while reading this... ;-)  
> https://open.spotify.com/track/5od9UPQCNQ7Cwza7bqPBUu

_"We are a way for the universe to know itself. Some part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can, because the cosmos is also within us. We're made of star stuff."_   - Carl Sagan

\--

Utterly confused, Therese returned to her car.  For the past three hours, she had been walking up and down the hospital stairs with Carol, hoping to induce the labor with physical exertion prescribed on top of the medication. The constant climbing and descending hadn’t been strenuous for Therese, but she had worried excessively over Carol’s state of mind. It had showed signs of deterioration over the past week.

 _No wonder_ , she mused, opening the door on the driver’s side. Carol’s pregnancy had gone two weeks past the normal gestation, and these last days before the “D Day” had been gruesome in more ways than one.

“It doesn’t want to come out of me …” Carol had grunted in desperation, when Abby and Gen had visited them over the past weekend.

“ _Don’t_ say it,” Gen had hastened to warn Abby, seeing the amused flicker in her eyes. “It wasn’t a good joke then, and it’s not going to be funny now either.” She had kept looking sternly at Abby who had feigned total ignorance at Gen’s reproach.

“I know the feeling … “ Therese had murmured, the corners of her mouth twitching up. The mounting hysteria had needed lightening up, she had decided, although Carol hadn’t found her remark all that amusing.

Abby, on the other hand, had burst out laughing. “See, I didn’t even have to say anything!” she had gloated at Gen. “I knew there was something I liked about her,” Abby had said, referring to Therese. “She has a great sense of humor!”

While Therese and Abby hadn’t been able to help but giggle at the frivolity, Carol had shut her eyes in agony. “I’m so _happy_ I can be such an endless source of amusement for you guys,” she had stated humorlessly. “But let me assure you that I am not having fun!” The fierce tone of her voice had shut the infantile jokesters right up.

“Aww, baby … “ Therese had attempted to appease Carol. “I know you’re having a rough time, and I’m sorry if what I said came out as insensitive.” Circling her arm tenderly around Carol’s shoulder, Therese had sat next to her.

“For the record, let me say that no baby has ever been left inside her mother’s womb indefinitely,” Abby had stated. “So I think it’s safe to say this one will be born as well.” Upon hearing this, Gen had let out a long, hopeless sigh.

“Well, you are going to have this baby before the end of next week, no matter what,” Gen had remarked, glancing somewhat disappointedly at both her wife and Therese. “You have the date on your calendar, so keep your eye on the ball, darling,” she had added, smiling encouragingly at Carol.

“And what a mighty ball it is!” Abby had enthused. “A veritable beach ball under your dress!” This time even Therese had cringed slightly, knowing how badly Abby’s retort would go with Carol’s current mood. Gen, however, had managed to bite Abby’s head off before Carol had even fully registered the irreverent quip.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Gen had questioned angrily. “Am I going to have to take you home?” Realizing she had gone too far, Abby had appeared sheepish and apologetic.

“Oh, give it a rest, all of you,” Carol had interrupted the potentially overheated conversation. “I know I’m a fucking beached whale … “ Having said that, she had snorted, finding her predicament funny for the first time in weeks. It had broken the ice but unfortunately not Carol’s water.

Sitting behind the steering wheel, Therese tried to figure out what to do next. She hadn’t expected to be sent home. It felt wrong and unfair. She should have been allowed to stay, and she would have, had the hospital not mucked up the status of the private room they had been promised. They would get one right after the childbirth, the nurse had promised. It had been an honest mishap in their reservation system, yet there was nothing that could be done with it this very minute. All the rooms were currently occupied.

“It will only be a few hours and then she can come back,” the nurse had consoled them. “You’ll get a call right before we’ll take her to the birthing room, okay?” The last words had been aimed at Therese who had just stared at the nurse stupefied. The visitation hours over, she had practically been pushed out of the door.

The look on Carol’s face had been forlorn, and Therese had briefly contemplated being seriously difficult and raising hell. Then again, she hadn’t wanted to be taken out in cuffs either. _I want to see my daughter being born_ , she had repeated to herself. She had squeezed Carol’s hand, reassuring her that everything would go alright. “I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even know that I’ve been gone. I promise,” she had whispered to Carol and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

* * *

Therese recalled the months and the weeks leading up to this day, the end of summer and the beginning of fall wading through September and October in their eager waiting. Carol’s estimation of herself as a beached whale had been an exaggeration, but it hadn’t completely missed the mark either. Carol’s belly had grown steadily all this time, her being able to support herself on two slender feet almost defying the laws of physics.

Even though being pregnant had become a breathless exercise for Carol, and she had been noticeably ill at ease with her condition more often than not, Therese had found her a beautiful sight to behold. Carol had transformed before her very eyes, and the change had been enchanting. Tanned by their first hot summer together, Carol had looked like an ancient goddess of fertility. Bronzed by the sun, her flaxen hair bleached almost platinum, Carol had possessed a surreal glow that had been heightened by not only her generous bust but also the extraordinary traits of pregnancy evident all over her body.

First it had been the freckles that had stood out more defined, although Therese hadn’t been sure of it in the beginning. When the lines defining Carol’s lips had become more prominent, Therese had known she hadn’t been imagining it. And her lips had looked fuller, too, almost gaudy in their outrageous sensuousness.

In bed, Therese had admired the dark vertical line, the _linea nigra,_ dividing Carol’s abdomen in half all the way from her bellybutton to her mound. The divide had always been there but merely as an imperceptible white line the hormonal hyperpigmentation had only now brought out. The darkening all over Carol’s skin, even her areolas deeper in their shade, had captivated Therese’s imagination. All of it had been sexy to her, and she had told Carol so.   

Sighing, she turned the car radio on.

>   _Growing in numbers_
> 
> _Growing in speed_
> 
> _Can't fight the future_
> 
> _Can't fight what I see_
> 
> _People they come together_
> 
> _People they fall apart_
> 
> _No one can stop us now_
> 
> _'Cause we are all made of stars_

Therese recognized the song, and it made her smile. She turned the volume up and pulled out of the parking lot.

Finally getting home, Therese felt very alone. The place was eerily quiet, everything spic and span for the new arrival. Therese had thought the next time she would cross the threshold would have been with the baby. Coming back now felt like a failure, and for a moment she just sat on the couch, deflated by her disappointment.

Rose and Bob had been there only yesterday, the former preparing food for the days after their return from the hospital, because, apparently, they would lose all ability to cook for themselves. The fridge was fully stocked, and the freezer had several containers of ready meals Rose had made in advance. Bob had brought a box full of children’s books Therese had enjoyed as a child, and she had spent a few nostalgic moments going through the much-read volumes and fairytales.

The bedtime stories had always been extra special for Therese, for Bob had managed to make them exceptionally fascinating. Noticing how Therese had hardly ever fallen asleep in the middle of a tale, Bob had opted for them to discuss what he had just narrated. “And they lived happily ever after,” Bob had concluded as stories tended to end, but right after he had usually added, “or what do _you_ say?” They had talked about the characters and their motives, how their lives would go on after the story itself had finished.

 _The fairytales affect us_ , Therese had understood at an early age. _They build up our expectations on life and love_. She had loved the way Bob had chosen to finish with a question rather than a locked statement – _or what do you say?_ Therese had had _a lot_ to say every time, starting from boring, passive princesses and ending with a wish to work alongside the fun-loving dwarves in the mine.      

Still, what Therese had gleaned from her father’s ingenious question had nowadays more to do with the notion of nothing ever having a clear cut end or an easy resolution.  

>   _People they come together_
> 
> _People they fall apart_

Everything was forever in motion, coming together and falling apart only to start its cycle anew.

Therese laid down on the couch, the very same she had sat on the day she had taken Carol stargazing, and closed her eyes to draw a few deep breaths.

>   _Efforts of lovers_
> 
> _Left in my mind_
> 
> _I sing in the reaches_
> 
> _We'll see what we find_
> 
> _People they come together_
> 
> _People they fall apart_
> 
> _No one can stop us now_
> 
> _'Cause we are all made of stars_

The lines an endless loop in her mind, Therese dreamed of standing on the edge of her known universe. Her past a series of snapshots, grainy and black-and-white, she kept her feet firmly on the ground, on the threshold of all things unknown yet only waiting to be discovered.

 _I am made of star stuff_ , Therese thought, and the old epiphany crystallized, taking a shape of a nova that exploded violently through her consciousness. But it wasn’t her nova, it was someone else’s.  

>   _Slow slow slow, come come_
> 
> _Someone come come come_
> 
> _Even love is going 'round_
> 
> _You can't ignore what is going 'round ..._

The carbon, nitrogen and oxygen, these atoms in our bodies – they originate from stars. Everything that lives stems from what was created in the furnace of supernovas billions of years ago. The knowledge she had gained years before reeled around in her brain like the song.

> _Slowly rebuilding_
> 
> _I feel it in me_
> 
> _Growing in numbers_
> 
> _Growing in peace_

Again and again, hypnotically:

> _People they come together_
> 
> _People they fall apart_
> 
> _No one can stop us now_
> 
> _'Cause we are all made of stars_

_You will be brighter than the sun. You will disperse your light throughout our vast emptiness, and you will outshine us in a heartbeat_. Calm, Therese lifted her feet off the ground. It was easy, it was natural, it was fantastic.

When the phone rang, it was pitch dark in the living room. Dazed, Therese picked up her cell.

“Come, my love.” Carol’s voice was breathless, happy.

“Yes.” Therese leapt up and rushed out of the house, her feet hardly touching the ground which reminded her of her dream.

The hospital was bathed in soft shadows when she finally parked her Jeep in the mostly vacant lot. The windows marking the maternity ward were lit, the ones shooting several stories above it mainly dark. Drawing a deep breath, Therese walked across the yard to the stairs. Her feet felt leaden, made heavy by the weighty meaning of every step she took.

She was approaching not only Carol but her future as well. She found the door of the ward locked, which threw her for a loop for a second. She couldn’t see anyone inside either, the corridor appearing abandoned as if a neutron bomb had detonated in the vicinity, leaving only the framework of hospital life intact. Then she noticed an intercom on the right side of the glass entrance. Therese had no other choice but to buzz it.

“Yes?” cracked a voice from the speaker.

 _What the fuck do I say in a moment like this?_ Playing time, Therese cleared her throat.

“I’m here for the childbirth of Carol Aird.” It sounded ridiculously formal, but it was all she could come up with.

“Welcome.” Therese wondered if the anonymous voice were slightly amused by her phrasing, but seeing the doors open, she shrugged it from her mind.

Therese strode through the empty corridor not hearing a sound, and it made her wonder if she was in fact still asleep and dreaming. When she made it to the night nurse’s desk, Therese knew she wasn’t. The women in her dreams never looked as unimpressed as this particular individual whose snack time she had obviously managed to interrupt.

“Carol Aird?” Therese asked self-consciously, hoping the nurse would catch on from these two words what she wanted to know.

The nurse swallowed what was left of her tuna sandwich. Her smile was learned, perfunctory. “Take left and then it’s the second birthing room on the right,” she explained, motioning towards the never-ending hallway. “You can go straight in.”

Therese nodded, grateful for not having to ask for further instructions. Judging by her mature age, the nurse must have seen hundreds if not thousands of nervous spouses seeking directions to the event that would irrevocably turn their lives upside down.

Nearing the room, she noticed more movement now. Nurses and midwives and a couple of doctors resurfaced from the rooms along the corridor. The door of Carol’s room remained closed, and Therese was struck by a notion of it being a portal to another dimension. To open it was an act of bravery, she thought.

“Therese … ” Carol gasped, seeing her enter the dim room. “I’m so happy to see you.” Carol’s eyes were filled with tears of relief. Suddenly worried, Therese nearly leapt to her side.

“Is everything all right?” Therese asked, agitated. Her hands soothing Carol’s, she stood by her bed not knowing what else there was to say at a moment like this.

“Everything’s going great, darling,” Carol said quietly. “I’ve just been missing you.” Her voice was overcome with emotion, and she could hardly control it.

“I’m here now,” Therese smiled at her. “I’ll be by your side. I won’t leave you for a second.” She kissed her gently to prove her point, and when she heard Carol exhaling, Therese knew Carol was finally able to relax.

The door opened unexpectedly. “Great to see you, Therese.” Entering the room, Dr. Phillips smiled at her. “We’re all set now.” She walked to the other side of Carol’s bed. “How are the contractions?” she asked immediately.

“Still pretty random,” Carol admitted, and the look on her face revealed she wished them to be anything but. Therese’s eyes darted from Carol to Dr. Phillips and back to get a better grasp of what was going on.

“You need to get up from the bed,” Dr. Phillips told Carol. “Move around, and let’s see if we can speed things up.” It wasn’t what Carol wanted to hear but she humored her nevertheless. Therese observed how difficult it was for Carol to pull herself up and start walking about the somewhat ascetic room.

“Oh fuck … “ Carol grunted, holding onto the railing of the bed only after a few short steps.

“What is it?” Therese gasped, out of her mind with worry.

“Try to breathe and relax, even if it feels impossible,” Dr. Phillips spoke gently. “The contractions will become more and more intense the further we get.” The last part was meant for Therese whose legs were slowly turning to jello.

Then it happened with such a violent gush, it left all of them speechless for a minute. A spurt of fluid hit the floor between Carol’s feet with an awesome splash, soaking not only the hem of her gown but also Therese’s shoes.

“There you go!” Dr. Phillips grinned. The water had finally broken. Bewildered, Therese thought of all the movies in which pregnant mothers suspected the same thing having happened, while sitting calmly in some chic cafe. There was nothing tranquil in it, she mused, watching the nurse come in and mop the pool of liquid away. Helping Carol change her hospital gown shouldn’t have been a difficult task, but all of a sudden it was, her frenzied thoughts rushing everywhere at once. The tips of her fingers felt oddly numb as she tried to button the flimsy garment.

Dr. Phillips examined Carol soon after. “You’re almost three inches open, so we’re close to the transition phase.” To Therese’s added discomfort, Carol didn’t seem to hear her doctor’s words at all. She was breathing heavily, the contractions hitting her forcefully again. “Easy, Carol … “ Dr. Phillips said in a hushed voice.

“It’s so fucking easy for you to say!” Carol groaned between her puffs of breath. Therese glanced at the doctor, not sure if it were a good call to agonize her at this time, but Dr. Phillips kept her cool despite the sudden venom. Therese attempted to soothe Carol by touching her arm gently.

“Don’t touch me!” Carol spat out, exasperated by her condition. Surprised, Therese took a hasty step back. Dr. Phillips’ eyes spelled out what Therese did know on some level already. _This was not to be taken personally_.

A half an hour later, Carol was shaking and shivering each time the contractions started, and they occurred frequently. To Therese, it seemed as if Carol was experiencing them all the time with hardly any time in between.   

“Okay, we’re getting really close now. The baby has moved downwards.” Dr. Phillips rang the bell and soon a midwife entered the room.

“I want the epidural.” Carol’s words dropped out unsteadily as she realized that it was time to get busy with the final stretch.

Dr. Phillips shook her head apologetically. “It’s too late now. We can’t administer it anymore.” Therese wasn’t taking the news any better than Carol was, but the way Dr. Phillips put it left no room for arguing. Carol would have to grit it out. “The good news is that the final phase will be over quicker without it.” Hearing it did little to appease either of the women at the time being. “And you’ll be more aware of the experience as well.”

Carol’s face was distorted with acute pain. “That’s just it. I don’t want to be aware of it!” she complained, grabbing Therese’s hand and squeezing it so hard it was almost enough to cut her circulation.

Keeping her calm, Therese took a cold pack and pressed it gently on Carol’s lower back while Carol was lying on her left side on the bed. It seemed to provide some comfort to Carol’s growing unease, she noticed. “You’re acing this, baby,” Therese whispered tenderly in her ear. Carol’s eyes were watery, but she managed a smile even if it was weak at best.

“I had hoped I could give birth sitting down,” Carol said to Therese, as the doctor and the midwife exchanged a few words at the foot of her bed.

“I know,” Therese acknowledged. That had been what they had planned to happen, the pushing being infinitely easier in a chair tailored for the purpose. “Let’s just see what happens, okay?” she encouraged. Carol nodded, resigning to her fate. To see her like that was almost too much for Therese, and she wished she could have taken the pain away and go through it for her. This final stage was, after all, about pushing through the pain, going against all the instincts one might naturally have to produce the desired result – the baby that could no longer linger inside her mother’s womb.

“You’re fully dilated now,” the midwife noted, although she appeared to be talking more to Dr. Phillips than to Carol. “Soon you will start feeling the urge to push, but don’t do it until I tell you, okay?” Finally the nurse locked eyes with Carol who acquiesced to nod hastily.

“Do I have a fucking bowling ball between my legs or what?” Carol wailed after a while. “I _need_ to push …” Her grip of Therese’s hand strengthened beyond what Therese thought possible, and it made her squint out of pain.

“Okay – push!” the midwife urged. “Let me have it! Push! Give it the best you got! Push, goddammit!”

Listening to the petite nurse suddenly hurl out the inflamed pep talk, Therese could hardly believe her own ears. Even Dr. Phillips seemed to be swept by the same feverish emotion to get Carol to throw all caution to the wind. If ever Therese had thought of hospitals as places of subdued sentiment, this was proving to be its invigorating opposite. Her cheeks aglow, she watched on how her previous notion of a dignified birth was shot to smithereens and replaced by something that resembled a rowdy sports event. She liked the latter one better. Much better.  

“The baby’s moving!” the midwife narrated mimicking a sportscaster. “Hold it … NOW, give it another go! PUSH!” Carol huffed and puffed, which flashed the post-it note she had worn on her forehead in the birthday party back to Therese’s mind. It was so random, it almost brought a nervous chuckle out of her, but Carol was no big bad wolf – right now she was a fierce Amazon woman giving birth to an entire universe.

“Therese … “ Dr. Phillips managed to quip in-between the cheering. “You may want to check out what’s happening down here. Maybe take a photo or a video of the baby coming out?” Therese wasn’t sure what to say but the idea both appealed to her and repelled her at the same time.

“Don’t you dare!” Carol objected adamantly, tightening her death grip on Therese’s hand. The thought of Therese filming the birth in all its gory detail was obviously too much for her. Therese squeezed Carol’s hand back, letting her know she would not do anything she didn’t want her to do.

“PUSH!” the nurse ordered once again, and the cheering started anew. It was intoxicating in its unexpected lunacy, Therese mused, so unrestrained and wild, as if some untamed maternal spirit had descended upon them and tapped them into its primordial source. _This is how new life should be brought into the world, with a rebel yell instead of ill-advised, muted reverence_. She was happy to be a part of it, elated, really.

“The mirror, now!” the midwife ordered, and it was probably the only time it was okay for her to boss the doctor around. Dr. Phillips picked it up from a side table, and before either Carol or Therese understood its function, she held it between the bent knees to offer them the first sight of the baby’s head.

“Gently, gently now … “ the midwife calmed Carol down. “We don’t want her to rocket out, do we?” Therese could tell how intense the pressure was and how badly Carol wanted to be done with it, but Carol gritted her teeth and obeyed as well as she possible could.

It took Therese a second to truly understand that it was in fact the top of the baby’s scalp that was showing in the mirror. The tiny head kept advancing with each contraction and each push, accompanied by Carol’s grunting and swearing.

“We have a forehead!” Dr. Phillips declared as if it had been unclear only a moment ago whether such a thing was attached to the unborn child. The crowning continued, more details of the baby’s head becoming visible – the nose, the mouth, and suddenly, the chin, the perfect, small chin to complete the smudged whole.

Therese couldn’t get her eyes off of the wondrous thing that had hair on her head, soon also shoulders and a skinny butt, and when the wrinkled little monkey cried out for the first time, she was stunned to realize it possessed a voice more formidable than its stature. That voice was able to command undivided attention.

Finally in the midwife’s arms, the baby looked more naked than anything Therese had ever seen in her life. “What a beautiful girl,” the midwife smiled at Carol, turning next to address Therese. “Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” she asked her.

Therese had expected to be asked this yet when the moment arrived, she was still surprised by it. Overcome by the task, one so simple but crucial, she did the honors, all the while gazing at the baby, the girl, _their daughter_.  Therese looked at Carol who was equally moved by what was happening, by the enormity of an everyday miracle in a place like this, yet once-in-a-lifetime for them.

Therese looked and kept on looking when the girl was lifted onto Carol’s belly to be warmed up by her mother’s body, to be touched and marveled at for the first time. The emotions flooded Therese, they overloaded her senses. She was euphoric and excited, awed and utterly touched, everything at the same time.

“She came out of you … “ Therese muttered to Carol, her voice laced with reverent disbelief.

“I know,” Carol whispered, relieved to have arrived to this moment. She was swept away by the sight of their stupefying wonder, so much so that she paid hardly any attention to the placenta delivered only minutes later.

“You can touch her,” Carol said to Therese, noticing the sudden shyness Therese seemed to be experiencing. “The little imp … “ Carol’s words seemed to catch the girl’s attention.

“Uh-oh, I think she heard you,” Therese smiled, daring to caress the shriveled rump that lay still on Carol’s abdomen. The Imp formerly known as Giger, the invisible alien, showed signs of moving after the first moments of drowsy inactivity.  

How it was possible for someone so otherwordly, so unaware of everything other than what she had known for the past nine months, to know what to do astounded her mothers. The baby nudged forward, beckoned by an unbeatable urge to find the source of nourishment. Crawling slowly, she pulled herself up, towards the bullseye – the nipple. The wondrous sequence bore the marks of what could only be described as tenacious survival, the innate need to attach to the lifeline of the mother in a new way. The baby, curious in her appearance with her wide eyes still gazing more inward than out, found the prize she was looking for, and it happened easily. When she finally got close enough to suckle, the tiny mouth opened up as if drawn out almost against her will. The impulse to latch on and to suck seemed to overcome the creature so entirely, it amazed not only Carol but Therese as well.    

Dr. Phillips interrupted their tender moment some time later. “We need to stitch you up a bit, Carol. Nothing major, just some tearing, but I’d rather have it done in an operating room.”

Therese glanced at Carol, surprised by the sudden news. “I thought everything went smoothly?”

“It did, and this is quite common,” Dr. Phillips assured. “But let’s have it done right away, okay?” She motioned for the nurse to come and pick up the baby for a little while.

“Okay … “ Carol agreed to, reluctant to lose the feel of the little girl against her bosom.

“Therese will take care of the baby while you’re away.” Dr. Phillips’ words comforted Carol and puzzled Therese.

 _I will?_ Therese was totally unprepared for it, yet she wasn’t going to say anything. She nodded fast, lacing her fingers with Carol’s for a quick second before Dr. Phillips set her decision in motion. The bed was wheeled out of the room, leaving Therese alone with the midwife and the baby.

“Let’s start with her first bath,” the midwife said, holding the infant expertly on her left arm and chest. Therese nodded again, flustered by the new situation. She looked on as the small woman, so spunky only less than 30 minutes ago, cooed to the baby in a quiet, soothing voice. “Yes … it’s your mommy who’s going to bathe you now … “ She completed her sweet talk.

“What?” Therese mumbled, stunned by the sudden declaration. “Me?” She had taken care of Carly’s girls, but this one was something else – this one was … fragile and _different_.

“Yes, you.” The midwife obviously saw nothing curious in her insistence of having Therese to do the job. “I’ll guide you through it, so you can teach your partner to do it as well.” She sounded calm and confident – all the things Therese was not.

 _I’ll drop her. She will slip from my grip and be traumatized forever._ _God._ Therese folded her arms across her chest just to keep her hands from shaking.

The midwife read her thoughts. “You’re not going to drop her, and you’ll do just fine,” she grinned at Therese. “I’ll be right next to you.” She turned the faucet on and adjusted the water temperature. “Your turn.”

Taking the baby in her arms, Therese felt clumsier than ever in her life. How weightless she was, so defenseless and minuscule, she thought, trying to understand what was expected of her. Ladling water with her cupped hand over the girl’s backside, her arms and legs, Therese breathed in and out as steadily as she could. _She seems to enjoy it_ , Therese mused, a shy smile wiping her confusion away. When they were done, she felt almost bad for having to stop.

“This will be your special time together,” the midwife said after they had dressed the baby warmly. Taking her from Therese for a moment, she instructed her to change into a baggy hospital shirt. “You need a loose one for what comes next,” she smiled.

Not understanding what any of it implied, Therese did as she was told. She took a seat in the armchair below the small window to be handed the baby to hold. What she hadn’t seen coming was the midwife’s intention to slide the baby under her shirt.

“This way you’ll both be comfortable. You’ll be able to see her and she gets the closeness she needs.”   

Therese cradled the baby in her arms, watching her through the opening of her shirt. The small head that had a little pink hat on aimed its big eyes at her. The girl seemed surprised to be there at first, her distant stare almost disapproving.

“Hey you … “ Therese said, smiling shyly at the newcomer. “I like the hat.” The girl’s brow lifted as if astonished to know that Therese could speak. “Not my color though.” The baby looked as if she was eager to hear more. “Not everyone can wear pink, but it suits you.” The tiny creature remained unimpressed. “We’ll get you other colors, don’t worry,” Therese comforted her. “How about green? Would you like that? It’s my favorite.” The baby writhed in her arms. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 _I came to this planet on a spaceship called mother_. Therese had heard these words spoken in a TV program she had randomly stumbled upon only weeks earlier. Gazing at her child, she suddenly understood what they had meant. The look on a newborn baby’s face bore an unearthliness Therese couldn’t connect with anything she had previously known. While restless in Carol’s womb, the baby had been called an alien, but only now Therese realized what kind of an alien she really was – one so out of touch with this Earth her mothers were tied down to. Nine months of floating in the dark seclusion had taught her nothing of gravity, nothing of what people spend so much time fretting over.

 _The dreams she must have had in her solitude. I wonder what they were like. Dreams of drifting through time and space, the umbilical cord her sole support in her journey_. The little alien was all instincts, all survival, in her bud-like world that was slowly opening its petals one by one.

The midwife had instructed Therese to take off her bra before getting into the floppy shirt. That way her body could warm the baby more efficiently, she had said. The sweet, sullen alien hadn’t, however, paid any attention to such an oversimplified explanation. What took place next happened so suddenly, it made Therese gasp: the baby latched onto her nipple without a warning.

“Umm … ” Therese uttered, seriously startled. “The baby just … umm … she’s trying to … you know.” She could feel her cheeks glow out of surprise and slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, they do that.” The midwife peeked inside her shirt. “It’s quite alright. She wouldn’t be getting much out of her birth mother either at this point.” Seeing Therese’s bafflement, she nevertheless felt a need to elaborate. “This is a bonding experience for you two,” she said. “It will lay foundation to everything that comes after. Make the most of it.” The woman turned on her heels and, exiting the room, left them alone for the first time ever.

 _So here we are_. Enchanted, Therese looked at the girl who lavished all her attention to what she had so aptly found. Her eyes were still wide open, and she appeared to be more at ease with the other mother whose voice she had heard through her fluid dreams. Fierce, protective emotions running rampant through her core, Therese was struck by something her father had said to her when the renovation had been almost done with.              

”You’re not the lead vocalist anymore, Theodore.” Bob had looked at Therese sharply. “It’s back-ups for you now that you’ll be featuring a new star on stage.” Finishing his job, he had taken off his working gloves and pushed the baseball cap further back on his head. “House band duty isn’t always the most rewarding one personally, but as long as you keep the repertoire interesting, you’ll be able to squeeze in an occasional solo or two.” Therese had grinned at her father’s endless rock band metaphors.

“I know all that,” she had admitted willingly. “And I’m ready for it. I feel her moving restlessly around, and I’m already aware that I will do anything for her. That I would give my life for her in a heartbeat.” Therese did know it, and she had thought about how easy something like that might in fact be. The baby girl had become so real for her, so palpably present even though yet unborn.

“It’s a noble thought,” Bob had said. “One that I had myself all those years ago. And still do.” Therese had looked slightly confused, not knowing what he had meant to convey. “But it’s not enough, because, in a way, you will have to do it every single day.”

Therese hadn’t been sure what Bob had implied. “Do what?” she had inquired.

“Give your life to her every single day.” Bob’s smile had been wistful. “Sometimes it can be very hard.” He had gathered his tools into the tool box and promptly shut it. “And when you one day wake up and see that your child no longer needs you quite that much, you will know you have done something right.” He had laid his hand on Therese’s shoulder. “It is the duty of a parent to make himself unnecessary. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

For the next four hours, Therese sat in the chair with the baby who suckled and, finally, fell asleep. When Carol finally made it to their private room, Therese was calm and over the moon at the same time. Carol looked at her and the baby, and the smile that spread across her face said everything. To know real happiness and to touch the serenity sought for in the numbing succession of days and months and years – even if for just one perfect moment – was all and even more.

 _A ripple in space-time continuum_ , Therese mused to herself, making all three of them comfortable on Carol’s hospital bed.

_Or what do you say?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should you have any spare time, I'd appreciate hearing what was your favorite chapter of _Eclipse_. Thanks.


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